


Christmas Has Been Cancelled

by Jlocked, The_Lady_of_Purpletown



Series: Draculus rubeus [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Advent Calendar, Books, Break Up, Butterbeer, Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Cold, December - Freeform, Dragons, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Getting Back Together, Ghosts, Goodbyes, Hogwarts, Memories, Phobias, Post-Battle, Pottermore, Sherry - Freeform, Snow, cuddly toys, mysterious lights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 29,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jlocked/pseuds/Jlocked, https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_of_Purpletown/pseuds/The_Lady_of_Purpletown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven months after the Battle of Hogwarts, teachers and students are trying to move on, but many traces of the battle still linger. Needing time to work a complicated spell, the new Headmistress sends everybody home for the entire month of December and is preparing to spend a very lonely, though busy, Christmas at Hogwarts.<br/>We will publish a chapter every day from the 1st until the 25th of December.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you keep an eye on [Jlocked's blog](http://johns-sweetie.tumblr.com), you can find a gif fitting the chapter of the day.

Things were very different at Hogwarts that year. Not only because there was a new Headmistress and new heads of both Gryffindor and Slytherin. Or because half the teachers were new to the school. The number of students arriving on the Hogwarts Express had been significantly smaller than it had been for decades and there were visible reminders to the buildings and grounds of the battle that had been fought. But perhaps most prominent of all, the halls and corridors, classrooms and common rooms, even bathrooms and dormitories, were almost overrun with a host of new, and for the most part heartbreakingly young, ghosts.

Most of the time they were just gliding around, talking with each other, reading books by the fire or in the library, occasionally even attending classes. Yet sometimes, during the lengthening nights of autumn, they would relive the horrors that had led to their deaths. There were screams and sobs, frantic incantations and desperate pleas, keeping the students awake until dawn.

Professor Flitwick changed his curriculum and began teaching the _sonnullus_ charm even to the first-years, to help them shield themselves from the nightly noises. And, as the weeks passed, most of the young ghosts seemed to be getting better at coping, so that there were fewer incidents of this kind.

Not until the end of October, did the real problem become evident. The increased number of ghosts were having a quite unexpected effect on life at Hogwarts.

 

Minerva McGonagall, current Headmistress of the school, was looking on as the students streamed out of the Great Hall. Closing the school for a full month had been the only option and most parents were only too happy that their children were home for a prolonged Christmas holiday this year, but it still felt strange to see them go on the first of December. All dressed up warmly, even inside - because that was why they had to leave. It was ironic how they had managed to keep Hogwarts running through all the crises and even war, and in the end it was the temperature that beat them.

She really should have seen it coming. Ghosts didn’t need anything, and yet they maintained a certain form of energy. That they actually absorbed heat had never been a problem with only a few ghosts next to hundreds of people in a large castle. But now it became impossible to keep the temperature endurable as winter approached. The children had been shivering in their dormitories, despite the piles of blankets the house-elves kept bringing in, while the elves themselves - though trembling and visibly slowing down - refused to wear anything but their tea towels. Although most of them didn’t like the idea at all, Minerva had insisted they too leave the castle for the month, carefully avoiding to call it a holiday.

It hadn’t taken much time in the library to find a spell that could solve the problem, but as there was much that could go wrong, it had been decided to empty the castle of all inhabitants for the preparation and casting of the spell. Good old Filius Flitwick had immediately offered his services, but Minerva felt it was her own responsibility as headmistress of the school. Besides, all the other teachers had families to go to or homes to see to.

 

“Professor?” A clear voice startled Minerva out of her thoughts. A few last years students had lingered in the Hall and one of them came up to her.

“Yes, Miss Granger? Do you have any questions?”

“Not about the situation with the ghosts,” Hermione said. “But I wondered if there is really nothing we can do to help.”

Minerva almost smiled at the girl’s helpfulness, now known to the whole wizarding world. “Preparing the spell is simple enough,” she answered. “It will just take time, and the fewer people wandering around the castle, the safer it will be.”

“I see,” Hermione said. “Still… It could be dangerous to you too, Professor. Perhaps someone should look in or be ready to come to your help...”

Now Minerva did smile. “I may be old, but I’m not so fragile that my own spells will harm me. You are very kind to offer your help and I’m grateful, but you should go home. I think a little time off will do you good.”

Blushing a little, Hermione nodded. “Good luck then, Professor. And enjoy your remaining holiday.” She turned away to join the last students on their way out.

"Miss Granger?" Minerva said.

The young woman stopped and looked back at her.

"Do give Mr Weasley and Mr Potter my greetings for the season."

Hermione smiled. "I will."

 

…

 

“So, Headmistress,” Sir Nicholas said, floating up alongside her as she was walking up to her office. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you planning to do with all these new... inhabitants?”

Minerva sighed. “Well, there isn’t much we can do and they don’t take up actual space - if you’ll pardon my indelicacy. I certainly don’t plan to banish them. All I want to get rid of is that horrible cold.”

“Oh yes… Cold… I can hardly remember what that feels like,” he said wistfully.

Minerva gave him a look as they arrived at the gargoyle that guarded her chambers. “You don’t need to worry. Hogwarts’ ghost policy will remain unchanged.”

“I wasn’t worried. Just concerned for the young ones,” he said, sounding slightly miffed. “It’s so sad how many of them just can’t let go. Their lives had hardly begun and now it’s just…” He sighed dramatically.

“I know,” Minerva nodded. “I don’t blame them.” Then she turned back to the gargoyle. “ _Mirabella Plunkett_.”

Immediately the gargoyle leapt aside and she started climbing the circular staircase, leaving Sir Nicholas to hover off. It was time to get to work on the most demanding spell she had ever cast.


	2. Chapter 2

As long as the students were at Hogwarts, it had been useless to try and tidy up the classrooms, let alone put everything on the teachers’ desks neatly in their drawers. The house-elves would regularly look into it anyway, but still there was a lot of all too flammable material that would be exposed to the spell if Minerva didn’t make her round to put everything away safely. Once she was done in a classroom, she’d put a heat-repelling spell on all the furniture, and then move on to the next room.

Deciding to deal with the dungeons later, she had started on the ground floor and made her way up from there. Granted, she had also skipped the common rooms and dormitories, but still she was rather pleased with her efficiency when in the afternoon of the second day, she could get started on the seventh floor.

When she finally reached the North Tower, she couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the circular trapdoor which led to the Divination classroom. It _did_ of course suit Professor Trelawney’s sense of drama that there weren’t any proper stairs going there, and Minerva didn’t want to think of the clutter she would no doubt find when she climbed the silvery ladder.

When she was almost up, a strange noise sounded. Soon it stopped, but then she heard it again. Frowning, she stepped into the attic-like classroom and looked around. It hadn’t sounded like a ghost, but…

In one of the chintz armchairs in front of the fire she could make out a familiar silhouette. Waving her wand to make some light, she stepped closer.

“Didn’t the Inner Eye tell you the castle was to be evacuated?” she asked loudly.

Sybill woke with a start and a surprised snort. She blinked in confusion and then fumbled around for her glasses, which had fallen into her lap.

“Mi… Minerva…?” she gasped, putting her glasses on upside down with the result that they immediately slipped off her nose again. “I mean… Headmistress… What… What are you doing up here?”

“The question is: what are _you_ still doing here?” Minerva said, crossing her arms. “Weren’t you there when I announced the heating spell? Or did you have another very important meeting with the… spirits?” She pointedly eyed the empty bottle next to Sybill’s chair.

Managing to get her glasses on correctly, Sybill got to her feet, swaying a little. “I have been consulting with the…” She hiccupped, “the Fates… About what to do to help all these poor souls… find their way to the… beyond…”

“If the snoring was any indication, I trust you have been most successful,” Minerva said.

Sybill sniffed and did not dignify this with an answer.

“No? Shame. Anyway,” Minerva continued, “I’m preparing the heating spell. I will have to ask you to leave the tower for a while, for your own safety and that of your possessions.” The set of pink teacups caught her eye and she quickly looked away from them.

“There… There is no need…” Sybill said, glancing around the room. “The cold is not a problem up here. I’m… quite comfortable…”

For a moment, Minerva studied her colleague. She was wearing three coats and even more shawls than usual, and still she hadn’t broken into a sweat so close to the fire.

“I need to cure the whole castle. The spell is tricky enough without the need to limit it,” Minerva said.

“Then tell me what needs to be done. I can protect my own rooms,” Sybill sniffed haughtily.

“But you’ll have to put away _everything_. And you’ll have to leave your rooms temporarily yourself, so you might as well let me get it over with. In fact, it would be safest if you leave the castle for the rest of the month, like everyone else has done.”

“And leave you here, to sniff around?” Sybill snapped. “I think not.”

Minerva rolled her eyes. “I have no desire to sniff around here any longer than strictly necessary. I do have better things to do.”

“Then go do them and leave me alone,” Sybill said, whirling around so quickly that several of her shawls got tangled and she nearly fell over.

“I’d love to, but I still need you out of here,” Minerva said, starting to feel a little impatient.

Sybill considered for a very long moment, then sighed. “I will put everything away myself,” she said. “You can come back tomorrow and do… whatever you have to do…”

“Fine,” Minerva nodded. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“After noon,” Sybill said, quickly. “I cannot be disturbed in the morning. That is when the veil lifts and I may glance into the most distant of futures…”

“Yes, alright, Sybill, you can sleep in,” Minerva said, making her way back to the trapdoor. “Just make sure everything is ready.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sybill did not sleep in. Not really, anyway. When she did not have classes, she was rarely out of bed before noon, but after Minerva’s visit, she had been feeling ill at ease and had only been able to sleep after calming her nerves with an extra glass of sherry, depleting her already meagre supply.

She would have to visit the kitchens again. Soon. She supposed she could do that while Minerva was doing whatever it was she wanted to do up here. Sybill was definitely not leaving the castle for a month. There was no way that was going to happen. Her? Leave? She had worked so hard to establish her rapport with the spirit world and if she left for any extended period, many of those bonds would be broken.

Besides… Where would she go?

No. Minerva would just have to accept it. This was her home and she was not going anywhere.

As she walked around her chamber, putting away all her belongings, and gathering the ones that she would be taking with her so as not to have Minerva poking her nose in them, she could not help but think back on the first time she had entered this room.

She had been so very young. And, she supposed, naive. She had believed that her name, coupled with her talents and the Headmaster’s obvious confidence in her abilities, would have been enough to secure her at least a moderate amount of respect. But no… On her very first night at the school, she had come down to join the staff and students for dinner in the Great Hall and, thinking it would be a great way of introducing herself, had begun predicting that two of their numbers would be gone by the time they all gathered here, a year from now. But halfway through her speech, which had been well-rehearsed and was accompanied by some very elaborate swaying and gestures, most of them had just turned away and begun talking amongst themselves. A few had even sniggered.

But Minerva… Minerva had just watched her. So intently it had completely thrown Sybill off her prepared prediction. She had forgotten the circumstances under which these two tragic losses would occur and had just mumbled something that even she didn’t quite understand, before quickly taking her seat.

All the way through dinner, she had felt those eyes on her. Every time she looked up, wanting to study the Hall and the people around her, she saw the woman, who had been her own teacher not that long ago, staring intently at her.

She had not been able to sleep that night, both uncomfortable in her new bed and wondering what that look had meant. Had the Transfiguration teacher perhaps been able to see what the others could not? Had she finally understood that Sybill was something special? That she truly had the gift?

Back when Sybill still was a student, she had often felt that the professor ignored her in favour of those students who were more inclined towards the crude, practical branches of magic rather than the ethereal and delicate arts. After her fifth year, Sybill had stopped taking Transfiguration and had not had any kind of interaction with Minerva. Or… Professor McGonagall, as she had still thought of her back then.

But now, maybe, just maybe, the young seer had thought, she had finally found someone who would see her for what she was. Maybe even… a friend…

So, despite her lack of sleep, she had been in high spirits when she made her way down for breakfast the next morning. On her way to the teachers’ table, she had been stopped by a couple of teenage boys, who wanted to know if she really was Cassandra Trelawney's great-great-granddaughter. Flattered, she had told them that yes, she was indeed a humble descendent of the celebrated seer and had then, just to give them a treat, predicted that the taller of the two would by the end of his fifth year have gotten 9 OWLs, but not be alive to enjoy it.

For some reason the other boy had burst into tears and been completely inconsolable. As his friend led him away, Sybill had seen Minerva striding towards her, a strange look in her eyes. Before Sybill could bid her good morning, her colleague had pulled her into the nearest empty classroom.

“How _dare_ you,” she had hissed, and Sybill had been too shocked to respond. “As if your little show at the teachers’ table wasn’t bad enough, you have to bother the students with it too?”

“I… I…” Sybill had stammered, not entirely sure why the woman was so upset with her. “I am merely telling them what… what lies ahead… I do not make the future. I just see it…”

Minerva’s nostrils flared. “ _See_? If you’re such a fantastic seer, then why don’t you see what you’re doing?”

“Doing? I am warning them… all of you… of what lies ahead. Is it not better knowing, so that you can prepare?”

“You just told a fifteen year old that he is going to die this very year! Do you honestly think that that is an act of kindness? I can only hope Dumbledore was wrong in assuming that you have any talents.”

“Not all teenagers are so immature that they are unable to handle knowledge of the inevitable,” Sybill had said, trying not to show how shaken she actually was by this attack. “In fact, as you may have noticed, he took it rather well. Why his friend saw the need to make a scene, I do not know.”

Minerva seemed to grow even taller than she already was. “No? You can’t think why it would be that someone who cares a lot about him would be upset by such a prediction, and by the descendant of one of the greatest seers of all time, no less?”

“I think he should be glad that his friend is forewarned. Help him set his affairs in order.” Sybill had glanced towards the door, wondering if she could get away soon. This was not what she had expected from a Hogwarts professor.

But Minerva had stepped even closer, looking as if she was ready to burst her ever-present bubble of control. “Unless you are very, very certain of what you are predicting,” she said, once again at a hiss, “ _and_ equally certain that knowing will be beneficial to the people concerned, I suggest that you keep your information to yourself from now on.” She had taken a deep breath before she gave Sybill a little more room and continued. “Divination is a dubious subject at best. In my opinion, it wouldn’t have been so wrong if Professor Dumbledore had gone through with discontinuing the course. To abuse the chance he has given you to cause unnecessary panic…” She shook her head. “I hope you will think this through, Sybill.”

And she had finally left the room.

 

Sybill sighed at the memory as she got up from her bed and, trying to ignore a growing headache, began sorting through her rooms, deciding what needed to be put away. And what should be completely removed before she let nosey, old Minerva into her private chamber.

Soon she had a small bag waiting by the door, with some extra scarves tucked in, to prevent any clinking or other sounds that could be misconstrued.

As she had expected, the trapdoor opened not long after noon.

“Sybill,” Minerva greeted her, looking around and giving an approving nod, although her eyes lingered on a forgotten crystal ball that was hardly going to go up in flames anyway.

“Minerva,” Sybill answered, picking up her bag. “I trust that you will only do what is strictly necessary. That you will not disturb or offend the spirits that dwell in these rooms.”

Minerva rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about your spirits. You know that I only like the best Firewhisky.”

It took Sybill entirely too long to identify the blatant insult in this. When she realised what Minerva was insinuating, she forgot her planned parting remark and just left quickly, trying her best not to look as if she was running away.


	4. Chapter 4

Tidying up was, apparently, a concept that great seers only approached theoretically, but although Minerva still needed more time in Sybill’s classroom after the Divination teacher’s round of help than she had spent in the whole Slytherin common room, she managed to finish the preparations on the evening of the fourth day.

Deciding that it was better to begin the first phase of the spell with a clear mind, she returned to her quarters. She still wasn’t quite used to her new rooms. She had lived behind the Transfiguration classroom for so many years that it had become a true home to her. Despite the fact that she now had more space at her disposal, she still wondered sometimes if she could not strike a deal with her new colleague to get her old room back. Of course she only really considered that in moments of silly sentimentality, and she quite liked the Headmaster’s office, although she kept thinking of it as Dumbledore’s.

When she entered, the old Headmaster’s portrait was awake for once. Sometimes Minerva thought he must be catching up with all the sleep he missed when he was alive. Now, however, he had moved over to Professor Snape’s frame and they were talking - or rather, Albus was, but at least Severus seemed to be listening politely. When he saw Minerva, Albus smiled widely.

“The castle is all ready, I presume?” he asked.

Minerva nodded. “And everyone is out. Even Sybill.”

“I imagine she was reluctant to leave,” Albus said before returning to his own frame. “The school, to her, is really the only home she’s had since she was a little girl.”

“I know,” Minerva sighed. “But the same goes for some of the students I had to send away. If there is any chance I can invite them back sooner than expected, I most certainly will.”

“You have confidence the spell will work?”

She frowned. “It has to work. I still believe there is no better alternative.”

The last time she had seen Albus awake, they had in fact had a long discussion about this. The few other options he had suggested had meant that the students could stay, but the temperature would only be corrected very gradually. She could imagine that a painting was not exactly bothered by that, so for once she had ignored his advice.

Clearly he wanted to avoid a new discussion just as much as she did, so he just nodded. Then, settling comfortably in his chair, he fell asleep almost at once.

For a moment Minerva stood with raised eyebrows, wondering if he was acting or not. Then she decided she did not feel much like talking anyway and walked through to her rooms, where she sat down in her chair with an extra tartan blanket and a pot of tea.

It _did_ bother her that she could not offer a place to go to those who needed it. She hardly needed Albus to tell her that Sybill wouldn’t be happy. On the other hand, Minerva wondered if Sybill was still capable of happiness that did not involve sherry. And she would find her share of that if she stayed at the Hog’s Head.

It always pained her to see what had become of her young colleague. They might have had their share of disagreements, but still, there had been a time when Sybill could be reasoned with. In fact, there had been moments when Minerva admired her.

Once, at the start of Sybill’s second year as a teacher, Minerva had overheard her standing up for a student who had not been considered talented enough by her classmates to be part of their group.

By that time, Minerva had been relieved that not all of Sybill’s predictions seemed to come true. They had not really talked since their argument the previous year, when Sybill had told them that they would not only lose two teachers but also a student. In fact, she had been right about the teachers. After years of threatening or promising that he would do so, Professor Slughorn had retired, and it was only to be expected that the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would not stay, although for once this was for happy reasons, as she was expecting a child and wanted to avoid contact with dangerous creatures and spells for its sake.

The student, on the other hand, had returned to Hogwarts in good health. Minerva had noticed he was not quite as cheerful as he had been before, what with his boyfriend leaving him for Gryffindor’s new Quidditch Captain, but she had been glad to see him again.

That relief, combined with what she had heard, had been enough to make her approach Sybill with a small smile.

Sybill had seemed startled at first, and then her eyes had hardened as if she expected another telling off from her former teacher.

“Thank you,” Minerva had simply said.

“Uhm…” Sybill had managed. “Erh… What?”

“For what you just did. I think Perkins could really use that support.”

“Oh… I…” Sybill had smiled and blushed a little. “Thank you.”

“I thought it only fair to let you know that I appreciate what you did there. After all I did the same when I disagreed with your actions.”

“Yes,” Sybill had said, trying to look haughty. “So I noticed.” Then she had smiled. “I assume you feel a little foolish after my predictions came true.”

“I am mainly relieved that they only partly came true,” Minerva had admitted.

“Partly?” Sybill had asked, looking rather confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you did say that Harris would not survive his OWLs. Fortunately that is not true,” Minerva had explained.

“I said he would not live to _enjoy_ his fine results,” Sybill had said. “And I was right. He did not enjoy it. Or did you not witness the dramatic scene just before the end of the year?”

Minerva’s eyebrows had knotted. “I did, but…” For a moment she had been trying to remember what Sybill’s exact words had been and whether she was turning them into something that suited her now, but she had decided not to let it spoil her good mood. “Anyway. I wanted to ask,” she had said quickly, “would you join us on the next outing to Hogsmeade? We have not seen you there, and we were planning an afternoon drink for the teachers this weekend…”

 

Seemingly surprised and rather pleased, Sybill had accepted the invitation. But when she kept giving her usual vague responses to the other teachers’ questions, their patience had worn thin and in the end Sybill had stormed out, insulted but also, Minerva suspected, rather hurt by their condescension. Feeling responsible because she had been the one to invite her, Minerva had gone after her.

For a moment she had hesitated when she saw that Sybill had entered Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, remembering certain awkward situations that had taken place there, but with a deep breath she shook off those memories. Once inside, she had stood by Sybill’s table, waiting for her to look up.

“I’m not going to apologise,” Sybill had muttered, staring into her teacup. “I have the right to be myself and not conform to their narrow-minded expectations.”

“I do not expect an apology,” Minerva had said. “I’d rather offer you one on behalf of our colleagues.”

Finally, Sybill had looked up at her. “You really mean that?” she whispered.

Minerva had shrugged. “Their behaviour was far from chivalrous. In my opinion, you did not do anything to deserve that.” She had gestured to the chair opposite from Sybill and gave her a questioning look.

Sybill had nodded and then smiled. “Can I… offer you a cup of tea?” she had asked. “Or… perhaps coffee?”

“Tea would be wonderful,” Minerva had answered as she sat down, “as long as you don’t read me the leaves.”

“I will not make any promises I cannot keep,” Sybill had said in her usual mysterious voice. “But I will do my best to ignore any portents unless they are of a cataclysmic nature.” She had held her serious expression for a few seconds before letting out a snort of laughter.

Fortunately, both their cups had proved to be very non-cataclysmic, and they had ended up spending a rather enjoyable afternoon together.


	5. Chapter 5

Minerva groaned as she heard a knock on the door to the staff room. She really did not need visitors right now. In fact, if everything had gone well, it would have been rather dangerous for them to be here. But her attempt at the spell had been a disaster. She had started it that morning, expecting that from that point on, everything would be fairly easy. An enormous amount of heat would be created by the spell, enough to satiate the ghosts’ absorption capacity, and then, gradually, it would be reduced to an agreeable temperature that could keep the ghosts’ energy level constant at the same time. The initial heat would keep her busy for a few days, checking on the castle and its furniture, as there was a risk that some things would catch fire, even with all the heat-repelling charms she had cast. She herself had pulled on a protective overall of dragon hide.

But it had been no use. The first time, she thought she had pronounced part of the spell wrong, unfamiliar as it was. But after the second and third time it had struck her what had really happened: the spell had worked, but only for a few seconds. Then it had reached the ghosts and all of the warmth had been absorbed instantly.

Her plan had failed.

“Come in,” she said with a sigh, looking up at the door.

“Good afternoon, Professor,” Hermione Granger said as she came in, followed by Ginny Weasley. “Lavender told us that it was still safe to enter the castle, so I hope we don’t disturb you…”

“No, it’s fine, Miss Granger,” Minerva said. “May I ask why you are here?”

“We were in Hogsmeade,” Ginny said. “Picking up Harry’s Christmas present. And we just figured we’d come by and see if there was anything we could do to help. With the spell or… anything…”

Minerva looked at them for a moment, thinking. Both girls were talented and Miss Weasley had been known to cast her charms slightly _too_ forcefully at times… “I know I said that I did not need help,” she said slowly, “but actually I am very glad to see you two.”

Hermione beamed, clearly delighted at the prospect of helping out.

Yet by the time Minerva had finished explaining what had happened that morning, even Hermione was frowning.

“Have you found an alternative spell?” she asked.

Minerva shook her head. “Not yet. But perhaps, thanks to you two, that won’t be necessary. I think that, if we would attempt to cast it simultaneously among the three of us, there is indeed a good chance we would succeed.”

“Yes,” Ginny said. “That does make sense. But what would work best? If we cast it together at the centre of the castle, or spread out to different corners?”

Minerva gave her a thin smile. “Good thinking, Miss Weasley. It would probably be better if we do spread out. But first you need these.” She waved her wand and two more dragon hide overalls appeared.

 

…

 

This time, a spark of heat could indeed be felt, lasting almost a whole minute after the spell was cast. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough, and Minerva felt rather defeated when she returned to the staffroom, where the girls were waiting. Of course she would find an alternative in time, but this set them back at least a couple of days. There would be no chance to return earlier for those to whom Hogwarts was the only home.

Hermione was biting her lip. “Is there anything else we can do to make it stronger, Professor?” she asked as soon as she saw Minerva. “We could bring more people…”

“At this rate, we would need more than the whole school,” Minerva sighed. “We have to select another option, I’m afraid. Or rather, I have to.”

“If there is anything we can do, please, do not hesitate to ask, Professor,” Ginny said.

“I would, Miss Weasley,” Minerva said, “but I don’t doubt that Miss Granger has already read every book on the subject available to the students since the problem became known.” She gave Hermione a small smile. “So if you have any new suggestions, I am ready to listen, but other than that there is little to do right now.”

“I doubt I will know any spells that you haven’t thought of yet, Professor,” Hermione said modestly, blushing a little.

“Then I will send you home once again,” Minerva said, nodding at her. “But don’t worry. I will get this under control.”


	6. Chapter 6

On her last trip to the kitchen, Sybill had found that having the house-elves sent away wasn’t all bad. There had been no offers of unwanted help or awkward questions to dodge and she had been able to bring back plenty of supplies. Or so she had thought.

The cold had been getting increasingly worse and though she kept the fire going at all times, she had found it necessary to warm herself from the insides too with liberal amounts of sherry. This had the beneficial effect that she had slept through most of the previous day and luckily missed whatever unpleasantness Minerva’s spell might have caused.

Unfortunately, keeping herself warm meant that she was already down to her last bottle and now had to venture out again to fetch some more. Wrapping herself up in a couple of blankets, she made her way down to the kitchens, trembling and breathing on her fingers to keep them warm.

Suddenly, she heard a door close right behind her.

“Sybill?” Minerva’s voice sounded, a little higher than usual. “What… what are you doing here?”

Sybill sniffed. “That is really none of your business,” she said. “I have a right to go anywhere I wish in the castle. As long as I stay out of private quarters.”

“But…” Minerva was staring at her as if she had grown an extra head. “I thought you had left!”

“I let you mess about in my rooms,” Sybill said. “Isn’t that enough? Do you really insist on driving me out of my home?”

“You could have been burned!” Minerva was still wearing the same shocked expression.

“Burned?” Sybill’s insides turned as cold as the air around her. “What… What do you mean?”

“The spell! I was casting it yesterday. If I had known you were still here…” Minerva rambled, shaking her head.

Her words were coming from very far away, it seemed, and Sybill felt the floor tilt slightly under her feet.

“Sybill?” Minerva’s expression, although slightly blurry, seemed to turn even more concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Yes… Fine… It’s just the… cold...” Sybill said, waving a hand in what she thought was Minerva’s direction. “I… I should get back to… to my room…”

Minerva caught her waving hand and steadied her. “I think you should come with me. You really don’t look well.”

“I’m fine…” Sybill protested, but still let herself be led down the corridor. Inside her head, words were tumbling around. ‘Burned… spell… yesterday…’

“Do you still take sugar?” Minerva’s voice cut through her thoughts and Sybill realised that she was sitting in a very soft armchair in front of a roaring fire in an unfamiliar room.

“Huh?” she said, blinking rapidly as she looked around, trying to focus.

Minerva looked at her assessingly. “I’ll put some sugar in anyway. You look like you could use it.” She pushed a red and gold chequered teacup into Sybill’s hands. “Did you eat anything at all since I last saw you?”

“Of course,” Sybill said, wrapping her fingers instinctively around the warm cup, her trembling slowly subsiding. “I had a very lovely meal in the kitchen while you were… snooping around in my rooms.”

Minerva rolled her eyes. “That was two days ago. I’ll fetch you something to eat.”

Rather than protest, Sybill focused on sipping her tea. It was surprisingly good.

Minerva waved her wand and then handed her a tray with a bowl of stew and a few slices of bread on it. “That’s as well as I can do for now. At least it’s warm.”

Putting her teacup down, Sybill took the tray gratefully. “Thank you,” she said, suddenly realising how very, very hungry she was. “That is very kind of you.”

“You should learn to take care of yourself,” Minerva said, shaking her head as she sat down opposite from her.

“I manage just fine. Usually. But I’ve been so busy this past week. Trying to find a way to send away all those restless spirits so that we can make the castle fit for the living again. I guess I just… forgot…”

Minerva frowned. “There wouldn’t have been any need to send them away if the spell had worked.”

“But they shouldn’t be here. Surely you must agree that the heroes of the war deserve a better fate than being stuck here for eternity?” Sybill sighed and put away the bowl, which had emptied surprisingly quickly.

“Nick told me that most of them will move on eventually. I think we must avoid rushing them,” Minerva said, before gesturing at the bowl. “Do you want some more?”

Sybill was about to say no. That she should be getting back to her rooms. But it was so very, very comfortable in front of the fire. And the stew was really very good. So she nodded. “Yes, thank you. That would be wonderful.”

Minerva nodded and filled the bowl again. For a while she was quiet, staring into the distance. Then she said: “I suppose I _will_ have to take care of the ghosts if I don’t think of something else. Something that actually works.”

Sybill smiled to herself before starting on her second bowl. It was a rather pleasant change to have Minerva actually confiding in her, almost asking her advice. Rather than telling her what to do. Or, as was the norm, telling her what _not_ to do.

She glanced over at Minerva, who seemed lost in thought. “This is nice,” she said. “Almost like old times.”

Minerva gave her a sharp look, but then her expression softened. “Yes.”

“We used to do this a lot, didn’t we?” Sybill said. “After you’d moved back from Hogsmeade?”

“We did,” Minerva said slowly, a small wrinkle forming between her eyebrows.

Sybill almost bit her tongue. She had quite forgotten why Minerva had moved back. That she might not remember that time with quite as much fondness as she did. Back then, Sybill had been all too happy to have her friend back, but Minerva… Minerva had been grieving the death of her beloved husband.

After an awkward silence, Sybill cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “He… He was a good man…”

“He was,” Minerva said, sounding only a little choked. “But it’s fine. I’m still grateful that… that you were there to support me.” She blinked and sat up a little straighter.

Sybill put away her bowl, and before she could change her mind, reached out to take Minerva’s hand. “I’m just glad that I was able to help you,” she said softly. “You were my best friend. My only friend. I couldn’t bear to see you hurting.”


	7. Chapter 7

Minerva rolled her eyes when a loud bang sounded behind her. “That stopped being startling a long time ago, Mr Weasley,” she said in a bored voice.

Fred was grinning as he glided out through the ancient tapestry. “Sorry, Professor,” he said. “I was just testing some things. For when Filch returns.”

“He’ll be delighted,” Minerva said.

“I sure hope so,” Fred said. “It’ll be his Christmas present. So you better bring him back in time to get it.”

“I’ll do my best. But the way things are looking now, he’d better bring a warm coat.”

“Aw, come on, Professor,” Fred said, pouting. “You know we’re not doing that on purpose. I mean, it’s a great trick and all, but we don’t want to close down the school or anything like that.”

“I know,” Minerva sighed. “But for now, it _is_ the result. And I must admit that I’m surprised that some of you have not yet moved on.” She gave Fred a questioning look.

“Oh, I could if I would,” Fred said, leaning back in the air, looking almost smug. “I mean… I’ve got no urge to hang around here. It’s just… Some of the others. They’re just _kids_. Sweet children who could not stand by and let evil trample over everything they cared about. And then… poof… it was just over. Some of them still haven’t accepted it. That’s why they show up for class. I’ve heard that Murphy still spends hours each night doing homework that will never be graded. I can’t just leave them like that, can I, Professor? I gotta look after them. At least until they’ve learned to cope. Or better yet, accept what happened and let go.”

For a while Minerva just sat looking at him, lost for words and with a lump in her throat. “I see,” she said eventually.

Fred glanced at her and his smiled faltered. “Oh, it’s fine, Professor,” he said. “I mean… They’ll be fine in the end. All of them. It’s just that for some of us the war is not quite over. But it will be. You shouldn’t let it concern you. We’re not your responsibility anymore. You just worry about the living students, okay?”

“I would,” Minerva said. “But that means I have to consider you too. Professor Trelawney thinks it would be best if I sent you all off, but… I won’t. I can’t. Certainly not after what you just told me.”

Fred seemed to tense. “No,” he said. “Whatever happens, please don’t do that. I mean… it would be fine for me. And some of the others. But most of the kids… If they can’t stay here at the castle where they still feel some connection to what they fought and died for, they would just be… lost…”

Minerva nodded. “I won’t.”

“Glad to hear that, Professor,” Fred said with a crooked grin. “Now if there is anything we can do… you know, like clear out certain parts of the castle while you work or something like that, please let me know.”

“Well… It would be helpful if you could keep the castle quiet for today,” Minerva said. “I’ll be going through every book there is to find an alternative.”

Fred nodded, saluted and then melted into the wall.

 

…

 

A few hours later, Minerva pushed her books aside and leaned back in her chair, tapping her quill to the desk. Satisfying the ghosts’ need for energy hadn’t worked and even if she’d known a way to make them stop absorbing heat, she was sure the consequences would be unpleasant. So the solution would be to find them a new source of energy.

Unfortunately, no one in all of those books seemed to have studied ghosts and the forces that kept them going properly. And none of the options Minerva had come up with herself were feasible.

She would have to ask for advice after all. Not from reflections from the past, like Albus and the other Heads of the school, but from living people. Colleagues, workers at the Spirit Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures; anyone who could know the answer.

 

While she was writing to them, she was reminded of the official letters she used to write for Elphinstone. Even though he was retired by the time of their marriage, he had always kept his connections at the Ministry, and Minerva was only too happy to help him with his correspondence. At least the recipients might be able to decipher any of the contents if they weren’t written in his frankly horrible handwriting. The thought made her smile a little.

One time when she had been writing in their Hogsmeade cottage, Sybill had suddenly stormed in. Minerva had been very surprised, as she hadn’t seen much of her friend for a while. In fact, it seemed like she was a little intimidated by Elphinstone, who could indeed come off rather formal and impressive when you didn’t know him. Besides, Sybill was almost young enough to be his granddaughter, which made the gap between them even wider.

“You have to help me,” Sybill had cried, sounding rather desperate. “I don’t know what to do…”

Frowning, Minerva had jumped up to lead her to a chair, trying to calm her down. “What’s going on?”

“Higglebottom. He’s here. He… He came to visit me.” Sybill had whimpered and seemed to blush.

Minerva’s eyebrows had knotted further in confusion. “Higgle… Howard Higglebottom? The Hufflepuff Prefect from your year?”

Sybill had nodded. “Yes… He… We went to Hogsmeade together once. In our last year. It was really awkward. He kept wanting to buy me things that I didn’t need. Because he thought he’d seen me looking at them or something. We met up with his horrible friends at the Three Broomsticks and I managed to sneak out while he was getting us butterbeers. Never spoke to him after that. But then today, he shows up out of the blue. Brought me flowers. Said he had just heard about my being appointed teacher here and wanted to congratulate me. And then he…” She couldn’t go on, clearly too shocked by what had happened.

“Did he really only hear about that now?” Minerva had asked, wondering about the news spreading so slowly for once. “You’ve been working here almost three years…”

“That’s not the point!” Sybill had almost screamed, then taken a deep breath. “He’s muggleborn. No children. And he works for a witch who breeds Hippogriffs. In America. So he’s not really up to date on what happens at Hogwarts. Or in England in general. Anyway… He… He says he’s moving back and he thought it was time… to confess…”

“And what he confessed was clearly very upsetting,” Minerva had nodded.

“He said he loved me!!!” Sybill was trembling now. “Claimed he always had. He wants me to marry him. Live with him on some silly little farm outside of Hogsmeade where he wants to raise Nifflers and things like that.”

Minerva had blinked. “Ah.”

“What should I do? I… I can’t just tell him to go away. He says he’s not angry about me running out on him back then. That I should just have told him I wasn’t comfortable with his friends. He says he’s so happy I’ve waited for him. Because I haven’t had a proper boyfriend since… since then.”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t tell him to leave you alone,” Minerva had said, even more confused. “You’ve just told me that you don’t like him at all and you haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“But it’s not like I have anybody else…” Sybill had said, not meeting her eyes.

“Sybill,” Minerva had said sternly. “I hope you don’t seriously consider that a valid reason to marry someone. You don’t _need_ him. Clearly, he is the one who needs you, but however harsh it may sound, that is not your problem.”

“You’re right,” Sybill had said with a sigh. “I’ll tell him. Just… tell him I’m not interested and that he shouldn’t waste his time on me.”

Minerva had nodded. “I think that would be best. Do you want some tea to calm your nerves?”

“Yes. Thank you. And maybe… Do you have something a bit stronger?”

Smiling a little, Minerva had shaken her head. “You’d better keep your mind clear for this.”

Later, when she had found the card in the mail announcing the wedding, she couldn’t stop wondering if Sybill had been drinking after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Having spent an afternoon with Minerva had been surprisingly pleasant. And the stew she had provided had definitely been better than what Sybill could have made for herself. But her little run-in with the Headmistress had made Sybill forget the original purpose of her excursion the other day. So now she had to leave her tower again.

This time, she had made sure to eat before venturing out. And had brought her largest bag so that she, hopefully, would be able to bring back supplies for at least a week.

As she passed a large window on the third floor, she noticed something that made her pause. After a moment, she turned and hurried down the corridor, once again headed for Minerva’s office. But, having been so lightheaded last time, she had not caught the current password. She frowned as she stood by the gargoyle, unsure how to make her presence known.

“Professor,” a voice sounded behind her, and she turned to see the smiling ghost of that sweet Gryffindor girl who had shown such talent for the Prophetic Arts. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

It took a moment for Sybill to remember her name. Then she smiled and nodded. “Miss Brown,” she said. “You should have known I would not leave Hogwarts without guidance in times such as these.”

“Oh… Of course.” Miss Brown blushed a darker shade of silver. “Are… are you visiting the Headmistress?”

“Yes, but it seems Professor McGonagall has forgotten to inform me of the new password to her office,” Sybill said, smiling indulgently. “Rather careless of her, but I suppose she cannot be blamed, considering her difficult situation.”

Miss Brown nodded solemnly, but then smiled. “I can go fetch her,” she offered. “If… If you like, Professor.”

“That would be nice, Miss Brown,” Sybill said. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not, Professor,” the girl said and glided up through the ceiling of the corridor.

 

“Sybill,” Minerva greeted her a few minutes later. “I had told the ghosts I was not to be disturbed, but Miss Brown stressed that what you had to tell me was urgent...”

“Not really,” Sybill said. “But I suppose we cannot blame Miss Brown for exaggerating a little in her desire to fulfil her task. I merely wanted to ask you a question. To clarify something.”

“Of course,” Minerva said, looking a little… tired? “Go ahead.”

“You said that everyone had left the castle, right? And the grounds? Everyone but you and I?”

Minerva nodded. “Of course everyone and everything that lives in the Forest is still there, but apart from that… Yes, everyone should be gone.”

“And… Professor Hagrid?” Sybill prompted.

“Yes, he too,” Minerva said. “He told me he would be spending the month with his brother.”

“There is light in his cabin,” Sybill blurted out. “I saw it as I passed the window. If he is with his brother, then who is in his cabin?”

Frowning, Minerva passed her and stopped by the window, straightening her glasses. “I don’t see any light.”

Sybill pushed her aside so that she could look out too. “No… well… There’s no light _now_. But when I looked out not ten minutes ago, the windows were lit up. Like there was a bonfire inside.” She looked at Minerva. “Don’t you believe me?”

Minerva studied her face for a moment. “You’re sober.”

Sybill glared at her. “Of course I am,” she said. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing. It just makes it easier to believe you,” Minerva said earnestly.

Sybill considered several nasty things she could have said in reply to that, but thought better of it. With a dignified huff, she whirled around, heading for the kitchens.

 

As she filled her bag, she was still seething. Who did Minerva think she was? The nerve of that woman…

Sybill was so distracted by her anger that she almost dropped several bottles on the hard stone floor, but managed to somehow tip them into her bag instead, where they made quite a lot of noise but, thankfully, did not break.

By the end of it, she had to sit down and take a sip to calm herself. Come to think of it, Minerva had always been pestering her about her occasional indulgences. Ever since she had married that stuffy old man from the Ministry, she had been acting so superior. Like she thought she was better than Sybill.

She sighed and opened another bottle as she remembered the day, she had come to Minerva for help. The first time her friend had let her down.

Sybill had only been married for a few weeks. Hadn’t even had time to settle in on the small farm her husband had bought, when things started going wrong. Admittedly, the wedding had been a bit rushed, what with Howard suddenly being called back to the States, to assist with something on his former employer’s ranch.

He had wanted to put off the wedding until he returned, but having made her decision, Sybill did not want to wait. So they had gone to London for the weekend and tied the knot at the register office with only Howard’s sisters, both very much non-magical, attending. After the ceremony and tea at a small pub, Howard had taken a Portkey to Dallas and Sybill had returned to her rooms at Hogwarts, not wanting to stay alone at the farm.

In that time, she had only ever seen Minerva on the rare occasions that they passed each other in the corridors. They had not exchanged more than a handful of words, but she had gotten the distinct impression that her older friend had been quite peeved that she had not taken her advice regarding Howard.

And then things had gone wrong. Very wrong. Upon Howard’s return, he had brought her to the farm and they had been about to start their life together when he, while helping her unpack, had come across their marriage licence.

She had been very surprised by his reaction. Surely he had noticed when they signed the papers? And why was it such a big deal anyway? Of course she would be keeping her own surname. She was the great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer, Cassandra Trelawney. Who in their right mind would give up a name like that for something as common as ‘Higglebottom’?

But Howard had, it turned out, not quite seen eye to eye with her on this. He’d become very unreasonable, demanding that she changed her name immediately. And then he’d begun making these wild accusations about her motives. Said that it was all because of that old hag she was always mooning over. Just because her ‘friend’ had not taken her husband’s name, Sybill wouldn’t do it either.

This was, of course, completely ridiculous and she had told him so in no uncertain terms. And then she had stormed out. The farm was rather remote and by the time she got to Hogsmeade she had been tired and out of breath. So naturally, she had stopped by The Three Broomsticks to compose herself before barging in on Minerva. And yes, she had had a drink or two to calm her nerves, but she had definitely not been ‘two drops away from self-combustion’ when she showed up at their house that night.

Instead of supporting her, Minerva had begun lecturing her. Sybill couldn’t quite remember all the details, but it was something about how she should, at least, have talked to Howard about those things before the wedding. Instead of rushing into it. She had, in short, laid all the blame on Sybill and more than hinted that alcohol had been involved, both when Sybill agreed to marry Howard and at the actual ceremony.

Sybill had never been more offended in her life and would have stormed out if physical and emotional exhaustion had not caught up with her. She had collapsed before she could make it to the door and Minerva’s relic of a husband had somehow managed to carry her to a bed to ‘sleep it off’.

  
Things hadn’t quite been the same after that night. Sybill had returned to the castle and was not surprised when Howard asked for a divorce soon after. Things had also been cool between her and Minerva. In fact, they had not spoken again until the day Minerva too returned to the castle. The moment Sybill saw the grief in her friend’s eyes, all was forgotten and she had not left her side for those first terrible weeks following Elphinstone Urquart’s death.


	9. Chapter 9

“I am so glad you could come, Olympe,” Minerva said, extending her hand for Madame Maxime to shake. She almost lost her balance as she was, unexpectedly, pulled into an embrace.

“No problème at all,” Olympe shrugged, pushing her back onto her feet. “Zese matters are easier to discuss face to face zan in small lettairs.”

Minerva nodded. “I’m quite at a loss for what do.”

“I must admit I ‘ave nevair ‘ad a similar problème, fortunately, but I am ‘appy to share part of our Beauxbatons library wiz a fellow ‘eadmistress.” She held up a giant bag and then opened it to show a set of enormous, dusty books.

“Thank you,” Minerva said, heart-felt, as she took the bag from her. Then, thinking better of it, she carefully put it on the ground next to her.

“Everyzing is looking so deserted ‘ere,” Olympe remarked. “Is ‘Agrid not around?”

“I don’t think so, but one of my colleagues saw light in his cabin yesterday,” Minerva said. “I can walk with you to find out, if you want. Some fresh air would do me good.”

 

It turned out that it was actually warmer out on the grounds than inside the castle. While Olympe suppressed a shiver, Minerva could open her cloak and loosen her scarf a little.

As they approached Hagrid’s front door, a faint clatter seemed to come from inside the cabin. But after they had knocked a few times, Minerva came to the conclusion that perhaps he had left some animal behind that could have made the noise. She tried to look in, but the thick curtains were closed and everything was quiet again. Sybill must indeed have imagined the light the night before, as it would be impossible to see, even if it had been on.

Olympe was visibly disappointed. “Can you tell me where ‘e went?” she asked. “‘e ‘asn’t written to me in weeks…”

“He’s with his brother,” Minerva frowned, “but I don’t know the exact location.”

“It’s fine,” Olympe said quickly. “I’m sure ‘e’ll show up and zen you just tell ‘im I ‘ave been ‘ere. Per’aps zat will remind ‘im to write.”

Minerva nodded thoughtfully. She didn’t know where Grawp was staying these days and could only hope that Hagrid wasn’t getting in trouble again. And then the light, the day before… If there had in fact been a light. He could of course have been in to pick something up, but then it seemed unlike Hagrid not to come up to her office and say hi.

But as they returned to the castle, Minerva decided to ignore that particular mystery. She had enough on her mind. Like that stack of French books she would have to decipher.

“Olympe…” she said slowly, “would you mind staying at Hogwarts just a little longer? Or do you have to return to your own duties right away? I think my French is moderate, but medieval texts using specialised terms on ghosts might just be a little too challenging…”

“Oh… I would be ‘appy to ‘elp,” the tall woman smiled. “I will return to ‘Ogwarts as soon as I can. But wiz ze ‘olidays I ‘ave to make preparations, so I will ‘ave to go ‘ome today.”

“Of course,” Minerva nodded, thinking how different her activities would be now if the school had still been open. It would undoubtedly have been a busy month.


	10. Chapter 10

That morning, Minerva was startled out of a rather chaotic dream. It had been Hallowe’en and for some reason the ghosts had started multiplying. The Great Hall had been crowded and several of the living students were frozen to their chairs. The pumpkin juice had solidified to orange blocks in the jugs.

But while all of that had been rather blurry, the image of Sybill, standing in the corner, arms crossed and shaking her head, had been razor-sharp. Minerva didn’t need to hear the words to understand what she was saying: “I told you so”. And then she had been awake, gasping and struggling with her blankets to sit up and take a sip of water. She still didn’t know what had woken her up.

A look at the clock told her that it was far too early to get up, but she doubted she would be able to sleep now. With a sigh she put on her glasses and grabbed the book she had been reading right before she fell asleep last night. Apparently, some theories said that those who remained as ghosts did so because they had not yet run out of life force. This would imply that they didn’t actually need the heat, but the book did not provide any kind of explanation for why ghosts _did_ absorb heat, and Minerva soon discarded it entirely. Halfway her last chapter, everything had started to sound vague and mysterious, almost like Sybill when she was trying to pass off one of her more outlandish predictions.

Sybill who had given her such a disapproving look in the dream because she hadn’t solved the problem yet.

After reading the same sentence at least three times, Minerva realised that she didn’t need the Divination teacher to explain why she had had that strange dream. To be honest, she had missed how the chapter had somehow gone from describing the seven levels of life force to different ways to relocate ghosts, but the latter subject rather reminded her of that year’s Hallowe’en.

The Battle of Hogwarts had cost far too many lives, but the losses had not only been on their side. In fact, about a quarter of the ghosts had been Death Eaters and those sympathising with their cause. Obviously they hadn’t been welcome at the castle, but there hadn’t been much the staff could do to keep them off the grounds. Ever since the start of the school year, they had been terrorising the students and even Peeves had hated the idea of having them out there.

But then, at Hallowe’en, the ‘Outsiders’, as the students had named the Death Eater ghosts, had taken things too far. It had started during first period, when they had been harassing a group of Hufflepuffs going down to the greenhouses to such a degree that the entire class had ended up in tears and three of the boys, in a desperate attempt to chase the ghosts away, had begun throwing rocks and smashed nearly all the glass in Greenhouse Two.

The boys were very contrite, but no one had blamed them. One of the girls, a young but talented muggleborn, had been so swarmed by ghosts that the poor girl had frostbite on both hands and cheeks. Madame Pomfrey had been livid and all but insisted that Minerva contacted the Ministry and demand that they send a team of Aurors or something. Anything to rid the school of this menace.

All outside lessons had been cancelled for the rest of that day, but the Outsiders were not done. When it was time to head down for the feast, the students had been subjected to cruel and often very personal taunts from the ghosts, crowding at every single window of the castle.

But, unbeknownst to the living inhabitants of the castle, a war council had been held that afternoon. Suddenly a roar had rung through the school and every single Hogwarts ghost, young, old and ancient, had swarmed through the Entrance Hall and out the double doors, streaming up along the castle walls, attacking the ghosts who were lurking there.

The battle had been fierce. And eagerly followed by the students, who were now struggling for room at the windows, pressing their noses to the glass to see.

It had been over much sooner than could have been expected. Led by Fred Weasley on a silvery broomstick and Sir Nicholas on a smoky steed, the Hogwarts ghosts had chased the Outsiders across the lawns, past Hagrid’s cabin and into the Forbidden Forest.

At this point, Minerva had gathered all the teachers, prefects and the Head Boy and Girl, and they had rushed out onto the grounds, laying a web of charms along the edge of the forest, keeping the malevolent spirits in.

To raucous cheers, the ghosts had returned to the castle in proud formation and the feast had turned into a celebration of the victory of Dumbledore’s Last Army.


	11. Chapter 11

Finally, Sybill managed to make a trip to the kitchen without any disturbances on the way. Taking her time to not only stock up on sherry, she also gathered a selection of biscuits, dried fruit and other treats that would not take any preparations. It was just too cold up in her rooms to do any kind of cooking.

For the first time, she actually considered moving down to Hogsmeade while Minerva dealt with the current crisis. A room at The Three Broomsticks, or even The Hog’s Head, would mean warmth. And hot meals served right at the table. But it would also mean being surrounded by people, many of whom just did not respect her gifts or heritage.

And worst of all, if she left now, she’d be admitting defeat. She could not give Minerva the pleasure of being right. Again.

So she kept the fire going and wrapped herself up in more and more layers of clothing. But the amounts of sherry that were now needed to keep her going were beginning to take their toll. And her hands were so numb that she had almost cut off two fingers trying to make herself a bacon sandwich.

Her bag packed with bottles and food, she was about to leave the kitchen when she heard a sound. A strange buzzing, coming from under a corner table. She got out her wand and approached slowly, fearing that some kind of pest had gotten into the all but abandoned castle.

She crouched down and, seeing the pile of dirty rags, frowned. It seemed to be somehow breathing and reeked of rancid Butterbeer, a smell Sybill remembered only too well from the year she had spent away from Hogwarts after getting her NEWTs.

Tentatively she poked the pile with her wand and then jumped back with a small scream when it turned over and revealed two large, misty, runny eyes and a large red nose. It was a house-elf. A very miserable looking house-elf.

“Go away,” it squeaked. “Let Winky be. Let Winky sleep.”

“Winky…?” For a second, Sybill considered just leaving the poor thing be. What was it doing here anyway? Minerva had sent them all away. “You are not supposed to be here,” she said, trying to sound stern. Like Minerva. “It’s dangerous. You could have died.”

Winky nodded. “I know,” she said, sounding rather disappointed.

The house-elf curled up again and began snoring unconvincingly. Sybill sat back, wondering at the strange ache she was suddenly feeling in her chest. Was she getting sick? Was the cold finally getting to her?

She got to her feet and with a shrug turned her back on the creature. She supposed she’d better inform Minerva that one of the house-elves had been left behind. Minerva would take care of it. Send it somewhere.

She hesitated. Though… the house-elf clearly did not want to go. And it really wasn’t fair how Minerva was just moving everyone around to suit her own agenda. Hogwarts was Winky’s home as much as it was Sybill’s.

Before she could change her mind, she bent down and dragged her out from under the table. The snoring stopped, but Winky might as well already be dead for all the response she was getting.

It wasn’t easy carrying her heavy bag and the limp elf, but she somehow made it back to her tower. After putting away the bottles and food, she conjured up a cauldron of warm water and then, holding her breath at first, began cleaning the house-elf.

Her ragged clothes seemed beyond saving, so Sybill threw them on the fire and instead wrapped the little creature up in a couple of her old shawls. Then she laid her in the chair by the fire, covering her up with a thick blanket. Feeling she could do no more at the moment, Sybill took a bottle and a book and snuggled down in her bed, trying to get warm.

 

...

 

She woke up a few hours later to the most delicious smell she had smelled in years. Confused, she sat up and fumbled for her glasses. Once she had confirmed that she was still in her own room, she got out of the bed and stumbled into her classroom. By the fire, a small figure, clothed in colourful, sparkling robes, was stirring a large pot from which fragrant steam was rising, filling the room.

It took her a moment to remember the house-elf she had found in the kitchens and even longer to remember her name. “Wi… Winky?” Sybill said, taking a step closer. “What are you doing?”

The house-elf turned around, beaming up at her. “Winky is happy to see Miss awake,” it squeaked. “Did Miss have a nice nap?”

Sybill frowned. How long had she slept? Surely this could not be the same elf. But then again… She doubted there were many of her kind with a nose like that.

“Uhm… Yes…” she said, moving over to sit on the nearest chair, not entirely sure she was awake. “How about you, Winky? How are you feeling?”

“Winky is well, Miss. Winky is happy to be serving Miss.” The house-elf turned back to the pot to tip in a bowlful of chopped carrots.

Sybill looked around and only now realised that the room was sparkling clean. Cleaner than it had been in all the time she had been teaching here. And everything was neatly put in exactly the right spot.

She had always restricted the house-elves’ access to these rooms because she could never find anything when they had been there. She had her own system for organising her things which mundane minds could never grasp. But this elf. This elf was clearly something very, very special.

Sybill smiled and put her feet up on the nearest pouf. “Miss is very happy too, Winky,” she said, and closed her eyes. 


	12. Chapter 12

It didn’t happen often, but that day Minerva just couldn’t focus on her work. She kept feeling the pressure of the quickly passing days. The increasing worry that the school would not be ready for reopening by the start of the new term. And then, suddenly, she could see a strange flash of light out of her window. It was as if it had come from Hagrid’s cabin, but when she looked again, there was nothing more than the foggy afternoon light, and the cabin’s curtains were still drawn. Still, she couldn’t believe she had just imagined it. Not after Sybill had claimed to have seen the same. If Hagrid had indeed left something behind unattended, Minerva thought she’d better look in to see how dangerous it was exactly. So she put down the last of her French books and made her way downstairs. But before she reached the Entrance Hall, a screech owl landed right before her feet, almost making her trip.

Immediately her heart lifted and she crouched to take the small piece of parchment the owl was carrying, expecting an answer from one of the people she had contacted about the ghosts.

 

 _‘Dear Minerva,’_ it read,

‘ _It was such a pleasure hearing from you. It really has been too long. You should come to London soon. Berthilda would be so happy to see you. She tells me to congratulate you on your appointment as Headmistress of Hogwarts. No one could be more deserving of this position. It is, of course, sad that it should happen under such circumstances, but still. The school is lucky to have you._

_As for the problems with the ghosts, I am afraid I cannot help you. I do, as a matter of fact, remember a case or two involving temperature issues involving spirits, but never any of such a magnitude. I doubt any of the charms we used would be of use to you. My best advice for you would be to isolate the ghosts in a small area, and then setting up a thermal barrier, shielding the rest of the castle from their influence._

_But, seeing as this confinement would not be pleasant, I do understand if you would not want to use such a method on former students. And heroes of The Battle of Hogwarts no less. They should be accorded any courtesy we can give them and never be made to feel like they are a burden to the living._

_As Elphinstone would have said…’_

 

And then Clinton Acker went on and on, reminiscing about Minerva’s late husband. With a sigh she put the letter aside before she had read all the way to the end. The last thing she needed now was for Elphinstone’s ghost to come haunt her thoughts as well. As much as she cherished every memory of him, dwelling on what he would have said made her wish too badly that he was still there to discuss the problem. Surely she would have come to a solution days ago with his help. And if she thought of how proud he would have been that she had become Headmistress…

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. The barrier was in fact an idea she could work with. She wouldn’t even consider imprisoning the ghosts in a small room, but if there was some way she could make a separate barrier around every ghosts… Though it would be hard to cast a spell over something that wasn’t solid, and there was still the question of whether such a barrier would keep them from gathering the necessary energy.

Her thoughts seemed to be going round in circles and suddenly Minerva felt a strong need to talk to someone. Being distracted from the problem for a while might be all she needed for a solution to form. At least, that was what she told herself as she wheeled round and climbed the stairs again. In fact, she suspected that her sudden urge to see Sybill was more specific than that. In a stressful time like this, Clinton’s kind words about Elphinstone had hit a nerve they normally wouldn’t have. And it was Sybill who had been such a great support when Minerva had only just returned to the castle. It had been strange how lost she felt after adapting her life to fit a second person for only a few years. Too few years. In those days she had blamed herself constantly for not accepting Elphinstone’s first proposal, for not taking happiness when it was offered to her on a silver plate. But Sybill had been around constantly, ready to shake her out of those gloomy thoughts.

Still, their friendship was rather different these days. For a moment, Minerva hesitated on the landing to the third floor. In fact, she could also talk to Dumbledore’s portrait. She didn’t really have to disturb Sybill from whatever she was doing - probably involving liquor or the inside of eyelids. And yet she found that she really wanted to.

 

When she finally reached the trapdoor on the seventh floor of the North Tower, she knocked quietly, telling herself that she would return to her office if there was no answer. But to her surprise, a rather squeaky voice said: “Come in!”

Confused what Sybill could possibly have done to her voice, Minerva pulled herself up only to come almost nose to nose with a small, beaming face.

“Miss will be very pleased that the Headmistress is visiting her,” the house-elf squeaked and did a sort of curtsey. “Winky will go tell Miss that the Headmistress is here.” And with that the small elf turned around and padded across the classroom, lifting up her very colourful and sparkly garments so as not to trip on them.

For a moment, all Minerva could do was stare at the elf’s back, before she finally pulled herself through the trapdoor. What was she doing here? And what was she doing… _here_? Minerva had sent all the house-elves away. And when she had been up here to cast the heat-repelling charms, there had been no sign that Sybill had enjoyed the services of a house-elf.

Minerva had to think for a moment before she realised why she knew the small creature’s face. It was the one that had caused so much trouble in the kitchens when she had only just been hired. The one that had been called in when it turned out that the colleague they had all trusted for almost a full school year had been no other than Bartemius Crouch Junior.

“Minerva!” Sybill exclaimed as she appeared in the door to her private rooms. “What… What are you doing up here? Are you casting another spell? I’m afraid I have been taking some of my things out again. I really couldn’t manage without them.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Minerva said, still rather baffled. Sybill somehow looked healthier than usual. “I was just… I felt like… talking.”

“Oh... “ Sybill seemed completely taken aback by this. “Well… in that case, why don’t you come through? It’s so much cosier in the sitting room.”

“Yes.” Minerva looked around, hardly believing what she saw. Even the decorative shawls were hanging elegantly rather than giving the impression that a wardrobe had once exploded in the room, and the crystal balls were shining brighter than she had ever seen. “Yes, I noticed,” she nodded, more to herself than to Sybill, before she looked at her colleague. “How long exactly has Winky been staying with you?”

“Winky has been serving Miss for exactly 25 hours and 34 minutes,” the house-elf said proudly.

Sybill considered for a moment, then nodded. “That sounds about right,” she said, then gestured to a chair in front of the fire. “Would you like a cup of tea? And perhaps some biscuits?”

“I… That would be wonderful,” Minerva nodded, sitting down while still trying to process the information. “But… Winky is working for the school. I don’t understand…”

“The school doesn’t need Winky,” the elf said, smiling adoringly up at Sybill. “Miss needs Winky. Winky is happy to serve Miss.”

Minerva couldn’t help but smile a little. “I see. But… Why were you still here, Winky?”

“Winky had nowhere to go,” Sybill said. “So she had been staying in the kitchen.” There was just a hint of accusation in her tone.

“I am sorry, Winky,” Minerva said, bending forward a little to direct herself to the elf. “I assumed that everyone had left the castle. But it was rather dangerous of you not to alert me of your presence.” Minerva found that she avoided Sybill’s gaze. If something had happened to Winky, it would indeed have been Minerva’s fault. Without thinking much about it, she had presumed that the elves had all followed her implied order and left the castle. The kitchen’s furniture had not needed another heat-repelling treatment and the house-elves would have tidied up, so she hadn’t seen the need to check it closely enough to find Winky. It was a mistake she could not forgive herself lightly.

Winky just shrugged and puttered off to get the tea.

Sybill watched her with a frown. “I think,” she said, keeping her voice to a level Winky wouldn’t hear, “that she was hiding. That she was hoping to get caught in the spell. She seemed quite depressed.”

Minerva pressed her lips together into a thin line. “I am truly sorry to hear that working at Hogwarts made her so unhappy. When the other elves are back, I promise I will pay more attention to their well-being.”

“Oh, I think they are fine,” Sybill said. “But Winky is not suited to that kind of life. She needs someone to care for. She’s a very kind and affectionate little creature.”

Minerva nodded slowly. “She does seem happier than I have ever seen her. But it’s also obvious that she’s already attached to you. If you keep her around now, I don’t think she can handle being sent away later.”

“Why would I send her away?” Sybill asked, sounding rather shocked. “Winky does not get in my way. She has actually been quite helpful.”

At that moment, Winky returned, balancing a large tray with tea, cups and several plates filled with a wide variety of biscuits.

“Thank you, Winky,” Minerva said as she accepted her cup and one of the biscuits, which was still slightly warm. She offered Sybill another smile. “I think having some company is indeed very good for both of you.”

Sybill smiled and looked down at the cup Winky handed her. It almost seemed like she was blushing a little.


	13. Chapter 13

Even though Clinton’s letter had not even come up, Minerva had felt endlessly better when she left Sybill and Winky the previous night, after discovering that she had spent far more time with them than she had intended. Deciding to make up for the lost hours, Minerva had gotten up early and found that she was working a lot more efficiently than the day before. Finishing the French book hadn’t earned her a new approach, but at least she could move on to new sources of information.

Around noon, however, she was startled out of her focused state by a quiet voice that sounded behind her in her office.

“Professor?”

Turning around, she found that one of the young ghosts had drifted through the door. “Yes, Mr Creevey?” she said, frowning a little at the disturbance.

“I’m sorry if this isn’t a good time,” Colin Creevey’s ghost said hurriedly, a silvery blush on his cheeks, “but there is something I should say before… well…”

Minerva’s eyebrows knotted further. Even in death, Colin had always been as enthusiastic as she remembered him from her classes. With that difference that she wasn’t blinded by flashes like she had been the first few hours she had been teaching him, before she had finally banished his camera out of the classroom. Now, however, he seemed calm and serious. As if some inner restlessness that had brought him all that energy had disappeared.

“Go ahead, Mr Creevey,” she said, gesturing at the chair opposite hers.

The young ghost nodded and glided over to float in a sitting position a little above the chair.

Minerva looked at him expectantly, but for a moment he remained silent.

“Mr Creevey?” she urged him eventually.

“Sorry,” he said, looking shy. “I just wanted to ask you, Professor… Do you think they are angry with me? My parents and my brother?”

“Angry?” Minerva repeated, surprised. “Why would they be angry with you?”

Colin shrugged. “If I hadn’t sneaked back into the school to fight… Well, I’d still be with them, wouldn’t I?”

Minerva sighed. “I don’t think they blame you, Mr Creevey,” she said earnestly. “I know your brother rather well and I have had the pleasure of talking to your parents a few times. There can be no doubt that they are incredibly proud of you. Of course they are mourning your death and they miss you, but they know that you fought for a good cause. That you were in fact protecting them and all your fellow students. So you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

Colin nodded slowly. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Professor… I think I am leaving Hogwarts.”

Minerva blinked. “Do you mean… Do you think you can move to your family’s house?”

The ghost shook his head. “I mean that… I am moving on. There is no need to linger here any longer. I’ve talked about this with Dennis. And… now with the cold… It’s better if there are fewer ghosts, right?”

“Colin,” Minerva said, “if you are indeed ready to move on, you are of course free to leave us. But please don’t feel like you are not welcome here. We will deal with the temperature. I don’t want to see you go out of some misplaced feeling of guilt.”

Colin smiled and shook his head. “No. I really am ready. I’m just saying that I’m glad that that will at least help you a little, too. Just… May I ask you to send a letter to my family? To tell them that I am gone? I think it’s better if Dennis knows that he won’t find me here when he returns…”

“Of course,” Minerva nodded solemnly. “If there is anything else…”

Colin shook his head, but then he grinned. “Well, actually… I don’t suppose you can ask Neville Longbottom to send my brother a signature? And a picture?”

The corners of Minerva’s mouth curled indulgently. “I will take care of it,” she promised.

Colin beamed, though at the same time, he seemed to grow a little fainter. “Thank you, Professor. It’s been a privilege.”

“No, the honour was mine,” Minerva said, bowing her head a little. “I don’t know what the right words are for the occasion, but… Rest well. You have earned it.”

Colin smiled at her. A moment later, his image was gone.


	14. Chapter 14

“Professor?” The shout rang through the empty rooms and corridors, bringing back memories of a warmer but also less peaceful time. “Professor? Are you there? Or did you turn into an ice cube?”

Minerva put down her book and walked to the Library’s entrance. “Mr Weasley? What’s all that racket about?” Then, heading down the corridor, she almost bumped into the solid form of not Fred, but George Weasley, who was running round a corner. “Mr Weasley! What are you doing here?”

“Here to see my brother, of course,” George said. There was a wide grin on his face and a large brown box under his arm. “I need to speak to him about the business and… other stuff…”

“Ah. Of course.” Minerva nodded at him. “I’m not entirely sure where he is right now. Perhaps you would like a cup of tea in my office while we wait for him to show up? You look a little underdressed.”

He shivered and drew his coat closer around him. “If your office is in any way warmer than here, I’d love a cup.”

 

“How have you been?” Minerva asked as they walked the corridors. She could imagine the holidays made George’s loss even worse. Not only would it no doubt be busy days at the shop, as many people would want a Weasley invention under their Christmas tree, but with all the family reunions the loss would be even more palpable and the twins wouldn’t be able to provide their usual distractions.

“I’m good,” he said, his smile faltering a little. “I mean, I miss Fred, of course I do. But we both knew the risk when we came here to help. And most days I’m too busy to dwell much on it. People seem even keener on a good laugh these days. I guess it helps them feel like things are back to normal.” He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “And I have many good… friends… That helps too. People who knew Fred, that I can talk to about him. Have a chuckle at his best jokes, you know.”

Minerva nodded and suppressed the urge to put a hand on George’s shoulder. “He still manages to cheer up the castle. And the other ghosts.”

“I do not doubt that,” George said, laughing. “So… He’s doing well? I mean, I know he’s dead but is he… happy?”

“I believe he is,” Minerva said. “Last I saw him, he was working on a new prank. And he has taken up the task of counselling the younger ghosts.”

“Wow, sounds like he’s got his hands full too,” George said. “I was hoping he’d have time to have a look at some of our latest products. He helped design a lot of them, so I thought it only fair that he should be in on approving them. Considering that he is still available.”

“I’m sure he’ll love to help and share some ideas,” Minerva said, before mumbling the password to the gargoyle and stepping past it onto the stairs.

“There is… another thing I wanted to ask him,” George muttered, looking a bit sheepish.

Minerva gave him an inquiring look.

“Do you remember Angelina… Miss Johnson?” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. “Well, she and Fred used to go out as you may or may not have noticed. She’s been pretty broken up about what happened. And since she started working at Quality Quidditch Supplies, she and I have… Well, we started having lunch together. We’d talk about Fred… Trying to cheer each other up, you know. But lately we’re not talking about him much. We’ve begun talking about… us…”

Minerva gave him a small smile before she continued up the stairs. “So you want his blessing.”

“Yeah… Sort of,” he said with a crooked grin. “Do you think that’s silly?”

“No. I can understand you want to talk about it to him,” Minerva said as she held the door for him to enter her office. “And I’m sure he will support both of you.”

“I sure hope so, Professor,” George said. “Thank you. For listening to…” He stopped and gaped at the sight of his brother, who was hanging upside down in the middle of Minerva’s office, shouting orders at a giggling Peeves who was attempting to pin a purple paper crown on the portrait of a sleeping Headmaster in gold pyjamas.

“Mr Weasley!” Minerva said, giving George an uneasy look. “I had no idea you were here…”

Laughing, George went over to help Peeves, then turned to see how many portraits they’d already done. “Oh, look at Snape,” he said. “Isn’t that precious?”

Minerva shook her head, but felt rather relieved that Fred did not seem to have heard their conversation on the stairs.

“George!” Fred exclaimed and righted himself before drifting over to give his brother an enthusiastic high five with the result that he floated right through George’s arm and the doorframe.

“Whoops,” he said, doubling back. “What are you doing here?”

George held up the box. “Brought the stuff you asked… need to take a look at,” he said and winked.

“Brilliant,” Fred exclaimed. “Master Peeves,” he called and the poltergeist sprang to attention. “We’ll be needing you for this. Your… professional opinion.”

Minerva raised her eyebrows.

As the brothers and Peeves were turning to leave her office, George turned to Minerva. “Mum’s going to kill me if I forget to give you her love. Oh, and… Do you know where Hagrid is? Ron and Harry went to Grawp’s place to invite them both for Christmas at the Burrow. But Grawp said he hadn’t seen him since the term started. At least… that’s what it sounded like... Ginny said he was going there for the extended break.”

Minerva frowned. “He’s not with Grawp?”

George shook his head. “He wasn’t there three days ago, anyway,” he said. “I couldn’t say if he’s gotten there since.”

“He did indeed tell me that he would go there,” Minerva said thoughtfully. “Perhaps he’s home after all…”

The twins did a double shrug. “Tell him to get in touch with the boys when you do see him, okay?” George said and then headed down the stairs. “Where should we take this?” he asked Fred.

Minerva looked around her office, shook her head and started to pluck all the paper crowns from the portraits before the Heads woke up. It made for quite a festive view, but she didn’t feel like listening to their complaints for the next three weeks. When she was done, she went over to the window. Hagrid’s cabin looked inconspicuous as ever. And yet… Why would Hagrid lie about where he was going, even to Hogwarts’ Headmistress? Surely nothing would have happened to him on his way to Grawp?

It was time to clear up the mystery. She’d go down to the cabin and force the door if she had to. Even if Hagrid wasn’t there himself, surely there would be some kind of clue as to where he really was.

 

She had hardly touched the castle doors when an enormous bang sounded behind her and the doors were blown open by the same strong wind that pushed her forward, blowing her hat off. As she held on to the door, trying to regain her balance while the last of the blast passed her, she saw her hat fly between the trees as a black spot, too far away to try and save it. Then, finally, she could turn around and look in the direction of the explosion. The doors to the Great Hall had blown open as well, and behind them, she could see white figures drifting.

‘ _No_ ,’ she thought desperately. ‘ _Not more ghosts_.’

Then, as she ran into the Great Hall, she discovered that the figures were not entirely transparent. And that two more colourful forms and a much taller ghost had taken cover near the teachers’ table.

“What in the world is the meaning of this?” she exclaimed.

George could hardly breathe from laughing, so it was Fred who answered. “We just figured that Hogwarts could do with a bit more… Christmas Spirit…”

“... Spirit _s_ …” George managed. “Though… It wasn’t supposed to go off just yet…” He held up one hand that was almost completely covered in tiny, shrilly hooting, confetti ghosts.

“It was… intended for Halloween,” Fred explained. “To sell at the shop. But we never got around to testing it. So… since the castle was empty anyway, I suggested George bring it here.”

Minerva looked around at the white flocks around them, now breaking up into the small ghosts and thus covering an even larger surface, and rolled her eyes. “As long as you realise that you have to tidy it all up…” she said pointedly.

George groaned and Fred laughed.

“You see,” George said. “That was why it wasn’t supposed to go off before _after_ Filch had returned to the castle.”

Unnoticed by the twins, Peeves discreetly drifted away under the tables, whistling silently.

“Yet it did go off,” Minerva said, taking out her wand. “And Peeves…” She gave the poltergeist a sharp look. “You’d better help too.”

“Oh, Mistress Head…” he protested. “Can’t you get the house-elf to do it? I’m sure she’ll enjoy it a lot more than the rest of us.”

“Winky has her own responsibilities. And you three’d better learn to deal with conseq-” She looked at Fred and stopped. “ _Tergeo_ ,” she muttered, quickly waving her wand.

Yet even with her help, it took them hours to get the Great Hall clean. It turned out that the tiny confetti ghosts were charmed so that they clung to the first object they touched, making it almost impossible to get them loose. The work also got increasingly annoying, as the confetti’s hooting became shriller and shriller with time. When she finally declared the Hall tidy enough to stop, it was already dark outside.


	15. Chapter 15

“Miss. Miss,” Winky squeaked, tugging on the top blanket. “Come and see. It has snowed, Miss. It has snowed.”

Sybill yawned and blinked repeatedly, fumbling for her glasses, until the eager elf put them into her hand. Shivering slightly, she made her way over to the window and looked down on the grounds that were, indeed, covered in a surprisingly thick blanket of new snow.

Sybill smiled, remembering how such mornings at Hogwarts were usually full of shouts and screams from eager students pelting each other with snowballs from dawn until dusk if they could get away with it.

When she had just started teaching, she had often joined them. But then Minerva had mentioned that putting herself on the students’ level like that might be one of the reasons she was having a hard time maintaining discipline in her classroom. She couldn’t expect the students to see her as a figure of authority if she was cavorting with them like that.

So she had stayed back, though it had felt terribly lonely and dull at first. But Minerva, after she had returned to the castle, had been a true friend and spent most of her first winter back keeping Sybill company and taking her mind off silly things like snowballs.

Sybill wasn’t entirely sure when their friendship had changed. The change had been so gradual, but she was pretty sure that a major turning point had been that one week when she’d moved down to Minerva’s room.

Sybill laughed to herself as she walked over to the lovely breakfast table that Winky had prepared for her. She had been livid that day. Minerva had been teaching a Vanishing Spell to a group of Gryffindors who had gone straight up for their Divination lesson afterwards. And one of the boys, a terribly dull mind, had apparently been less than captivated by the day’s lesson and had decided that his time was better spent practising for Transfiguration.

Suddenly, with a loud pop, her entire fireplace, flaming logs, perfumed smoke, boiling teakettle and all, had winked out of existence. The students had of course found this terribly amusing, but once the Headmaster had been summoned, it had turned out that the fireplace was gone for good and the boy had been terribly embarrassed. As he should be.

Sybill had tried lighting candles on every surface in the room, but it had not done much good, since it had been a particularly harsh winter that year and the wind seemed determined to find its way in through every impossibly tiny crack and hole. Though she had been rather miffed with Minerva who was, in a way, responsible for what had happened, she had also been exceedingly grateful when Minerva had offered that she could come stay with her until the fireplace had been found or a new one had been fitted.

She had already moved lessons to an empty classroom right next to where Minerva taught Transfiguration, so it made perfect sense. They had carried her things down together and that night they had lain awake for hours, just talking.

Sybill had tried sleeping in a soft armchair with her feet up on a stool, but it had been terribly uncomfortable. After she’d been turning and huffing for a while, Minerva had laughed and said that she had better come join her in the bed, or none of them would get much sleep. Which they didn’t anyway. Lying there in the darkness, Minerva had opened up in a way she never had before. Told Sybill about her childhood and the years before she came to Hogwarts.

Sybill had returned her confidence by telling her about her own family and especially the expectations everyone seemed to have of all the female descendants of Cassandra Trelawney. Sybill had been the first to show any signs of Second Sight in half a century, so of course everyone had hailed her as the next great Seer.

At some point during the night, they had both drifted off, only to wake up, sleepy and confused but very very comfortable, as a house-elf knocked on the door, informing them that classes would be starting in twenty minutes.

It had taken several moments to register than they had somehow ended up in each other’s arms. With a gasp they had pulled away and Sybill had practically jumped from the bed and picked up her clothes as she ran, blushing, from the room.

She had been rather distracted that day, but had made it through her classes. She took her lunch in the kitchens, but at dinner she figured there’d be too many questions if she did not come to the Great Hall. The whole school knew, after all, that her own rooms were uninhabitable.

Her seat was, thankfully, at almost the other end of the table from where Minerva sat and she avoided making eye contact. But then came the real dilemma. Should she return to Minerva’s rooms? Where else could she go?

Figuring they might as well move past this silly thing, she knocked softly on the door before entering.

“Ah, Sybill,” Minerva had greeted her. “Come in. It’s far too cold to stand in the corridor. I’ve just made tea, do you want a cup?”

Almost laughing with relief, Sybill had nodded and joined her. The morning’s incident had not been mentioned, though there was a brief moment of awkwardness when Sybill, shivering in her thin nightgown, had stood in the middle of the room, not sure where she was supposed to sleep.

But Minerva had just smiled and pulled the covers aside, making room for her in the bed.

The next morning, having managed to fall asleep before midnight, they woke up early and this time neither of them made any move to break the warm and comfortable embrace they once again found themselves in.

 

When Dumbledore, a week later, had told Sybill that her fireplace was back, she had moved classes back up to the tower, but continued returning to Minerva’s room at the end of the day. They never really talked about it. They both just knew that being together made much more sense than sleeping apart.

 

“Miss…” Winky’s voice tore her abruptly from her memories. “Miss should come see this. It is very strange, Miss.”

Pulling her shawls around her, Sybill got up from her chair and joined the elf at the window. “What is it, Winky?” she asked, squinting a little in the bright sunlight reflected off the snow.

“Professor Hagrid’s cabin, Miss. Look.” Winky pointed and Sybill finally saw it.

Everywhere she looked, the ground was sparkling white. Except for a wide circle around the small cabin, where the grass was not only visible, but green as if in midsummer.


	16. Chapter 16

Until the moment Minerva heard her knock, she had forgotten all about Olympe’s promise to return on Wednesday. Desperately trying to shake one of the confetti ghosts off her sleeve, she hurried to the door to welcome her.

“Good to see you again, Minerva,” Olympe said in her deep voice. “And I see zat ‘Agrid is back!”

“Is he?” Minerva asked, surprised.

“Ah, well of course ‘e is! ‘E ‘as been clearing away ze snow, don’t you see?”

Minerva had to take a few steps to her right in order to see the cabin behind Olympe’s giant form. “That’s… strange…” she mumbled as she saw how the snow was completely gone around Hagrid’s home. “I still haven’t seen him...”

Olympe frowned. “Well… Shall we get to work on ze ghost mattair? I ‘ave found some more information zat might be of interest to you.”

But Minerva shook her head. “Let’s go see Hagrid first. I’d like to know what he’s so secretive about.”

Looking mildly surprised, Olympe shrugged and turned around towards the cabin. “Per’aps ‘e and ‘is brother ‘ad a… dispute…” she said. “Zey ‘appen a lot around ze ‘olidays, non? So ‘e came ‘ome early?”

“Could be,” Minerva nodded. “Though he and Grawp usually get on rather well.”

As they approached the cabin, it struck her that the snow didn’t look like it had been shovelled away. The thick layer that muffled their footsteps gradually diminished as they got closer, until they were walking on fresh green grass. And she actually felt slightly warmer herself. When they reached the door, she took off her scarf and stuffed it into her pocket, while Olympe banged on the wooden door with her huge fist.

“‘Agrid?”

There was no answer and the two women looked at each other, shrugging. Olympe knocked again. “‘Agrid, are you zere?”

Again, no answer came, but then a high, plaintive squeak sounded.

“What in the name of Merlin was _that_?” Minerva asked.

“Zere must be some animal,” Olympe said. “But ‘e would never leave something be’ind zat needed ‘is ‘elp, would ‘e?”

“I think we should have a look,” Minerva said, taking out her wand. “ _Alohomora_!”

The lock clicked and the door opened to a small crack. But immediately the opening was blocked and a blushing and huffing Hagrid squeezed out, slamming the door shut behind him, cutting off a myriad of tiny squeaks and thuds. “Headmistress…” he gasped. “O… Olympe… What’re yeh doin’ here?”

“I should ask you the same,” Minerva said, frowning. “How long have you been here? And why didn’t you open the door?”

“I… I haven’ bin here long, Professor, Headmistress… Ma’am…” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door. “I… I didn’ hear yeh there. How can I help yeh?”

Minerva raised her eyebrows and looked him up and down. “Aren’t you… cold, Hagrid?” she asked. Hogwarts’ gamekeeper was wearing nothing but a white undershirt and a pair of maroon boxers with a print of small purple hippogriffs.

His blush deepened. “Oh no, Ma’am… Quite comfortable…” He wiped his forehead with the back of one large hand. “Actually… it’s nice ter get a breath o’ fresh air, ter be hones’.”

“Right…” Minerva said slowly, thinking of the cold inside the castle. No smoke had been rising from the cabin’s chimney when they walked here, and yet Hagrid did indeed seem to be sweating.

“Why didn’t you write, ‘Agrid?” Olympe asked. “It’s like you’ve been acting all… mystérieux.”

“Oh, right… I’m sorry, Olympe,” Hagrid said sheepishly. “I’ve jus’ bin really busy like… y’know…”

“With what?” Minerva asked curiously. “There weren’t any lessons to prepare. And we’ve been hearing strange noises from your cabin…”

“Oh yeah… that… I’ve bin… workin’ on some new things fer the… fer the lesson plan. Fer the NEWTs. It’s… It’s goin’ great…”

“I see,” Minerva said. “Looks like it’s exhausting work.”

“So you did not visit Grawp?” Olympe asked.

“No, I’m afraid I couldn’ fin’ the time… I will make it up ter him in the new year. I hope,” Hagrid said, flinching as a small thud sounded behind him, as if something had struck the door lightly. “I… I better get back inside… I’ve got… supper on… Don’ wan’ it burnin’, y’know…”

“Of course,” Olympe said, sounding a little disappointed. “But we will see you latair, right? I can return when we are done wiz our work for ze day…”

“Oh… That’d be lovely, Olympe, bu’... I’m gonna be workin’ into the night, I’m afraid. I’m really terribly busy.” Hagrid cleared his throat as he reached behind him, grasping the doorknob.

“Ah. All right…” Olympe frowned and turned away without a goodbye.

Minerva stood for a moment longer, giving Hagrid a studying look. He avoided her gaze, but didn’t open the door yet. In the end she shrugged and followed Olympe back to the castle.

But before they were halfway there, a loud curse sounded behind them, followed by a lot of short, loud squeaks. As Minerva turned around, she saw Hagrid waving his arms wildly, trying to shoo the escaped creatures, which looked like small sparks with dark wings, back into his cabin - but only more came out, in a long stream through the crack of the door he had tried to open.

“What…” Minerva managed, staring as the flying flames rushed off in the direction of the castle. She quickly crouched as they zoomed over her head, and looking up, saw that they were in fact tiny reptilian fire-breathers, not unlike dragons, except that each of them was only about the size of a Snitch.

Hagrid had given up on trying to shut the door and was now running through the snow on his bare feet, shouting: “Seamus… Hannah… Neville... Come back! No, Parvati… not inter the Forest. Stop...”

“Hagrid… What _are_ they?” Minerva asked, still keeping her head down as she ran closer to him.

“They’re babies…” he cried. “Jus’ little scared babies… Oh, Professor.... Yeh gotta help me. They’re too small ter be out on their own…”

“They seem to be quite ‘appy outside, though,” Olympe said, calmly looking up at the swarm of lights that was circling a beech tree.

“They’re playin’,” he said, rushing towards the tree. “Bu’ they’ll get hungry. And cold… Oh Dean… Cho… come down here. Come…” He waved at them desperately. “Harry… Le’ go o’ Hermy’s tail…”

“But… They breathe fire,” Minerva said, gesturing at one of the branches that had been covered with snow but was now dripping. “They won’t actually get cold, will they?”

Hagrid was practically sobbing at this point. “But they’re so small…” he said. “They dunno how ter care for ‘emselves. Oh please, Professor, you gotta help me save ‘em. Oh Ernie… Katie… Please come back.”

Minerva looked over at Olympe. “I suppose we can collect them. And then we’d better bring them into the castle,” she added with a look at Hagrid’s wooden cabin. “Everything’s been fireproofed there, so…”

“‘Agrid,” Olympe said, “is zere something zese animals like? Some kind of food?”

Hagrid stared at her for a second, then hit a palm to his forehead. “‘F course,” he said. “I’ll be righ’ back.” He turned and bolted back to his cabin. A moment later he came running back out, waving two large slabs of bacon in the air. “Look wha’ Mummy’s go’ for you babies. Come to Mummy.”

It took a moment, but then all the tiny dragons turned and attacked the bacon, squeaking happily.

“Lead them to the castle!” Minerva cried out, starting to run to the entrance while trying to keep her balance on the snow. Olympe followed her and when they were close enough, they opened the doors with a simultaneous wave of their wands, just in time for Hagrid to run in with the swarm of hyperactive creatures fluttering after him.

The women quickly followed and slammed the oaken doors shut behind them.

“So far so good,” Minerva panted, before walking through to open the door to classroom eleven. “This way, Hagrid, please.”

It took only a few minutes before the last of the creatures had followed the smell of the bacon and they could shut the classroom door, while enthusiastic gnawing noises and more squeaks were heard inside.

Minerva leaned back against the wall, trying to catch her breath. “Good grief, Hagrid… Where did you get those nightmares?”


	17. Chapter 17

“You have got to be kidding me,” Sybill said, pacing her classroom.

Right after her breakfast, Minerva had gone up to the North Tower, to inform Sybill that she should under no circumstances open the door to classroom eleven until further notice. She had resisted the temptation to tease Sybill with how the fates should already have informed her of this, and had told her about the castle’s newest inhabitants.

“You are not letting those beasts stay in the castle,” Sybill huffed. “You just… You just can’t…”

“It appears I did,” Minerva said, raising an eyebrow. “At least for now, until we have a better plan.”

“Shouldn’t we leave it to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures?” Sybill said, walking over to pick up quill and parchment. “I can write to them now and it should be taken care of by noon.”

“Yes, I’m sure they would take care of it,” Minerva said thoughtfully, “but I seriously doubt they’d do so without asking questions. And it _does_ look like we have a flock of illegal dragons in the castle. We don’t want Hagrid to get in trouble about that while, this time, he might be innocent.”

“Hagrid? So that’s what has been going on down in that hut of his? He’s been breeding illegal monsters?” Sybill was outraged. “Well, in that case, maybe he _should_ be held accountable.”

“He said he didn’t know,” Minerva said, shaking her head. “And I know how that sounds. But Hagrid isn’t such a good liar, is he? He told me he just bought the egg in a decoration shop in Diagon Alley. That it looked like a purple and green ceramic egg. He showed Olympe and me a shard of it that he had kept, and I must admit it was easy to be fooled. So he brought it home, intending to make it a Christmas gift for Olympe. But it turns out that Miss Granger has been teaching him during her free hours.”

“Minerva… You’re not making any sense. What does Miss Granger have to do with any of this?”

“Nothing directly. But she left Hagrid homework for the extended break, which he has eagerly started on the evening of the 30th. Apparently he and Miss Granger are convinced that he will be ready for his OWLs by the end of this school year, so it was about time that he practised Multiplying Spells…” She gave Sybill a meaningful look.

Sybill gasped. “Oh no… The egg?”

Minerva nodded. “He thought that giving Miss Granger a copy of it would be a wonderful way to show how much he had learned. But right when he did the incantation, his dog bumped into the table and a bag of flour fell on the ground. He doesn’t know how many times he sneezed, but… by the time he came back to his senses, the whole cabin was filled with eggs.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Sybill huffed. “That man is a menace.”

Minerva rolled her eyes. “Of course he isn’t. I think it’s very good that Miss Granger is helping him. In fact, I feel like we should have done something ourselves since his name has been cleared… Anyway, at the time he just thought he had a lot of Christmas gifts ready. But then the eggs started cracking. And when they hatched, he suddenly had dozens and dozens of dragons to take care of.”

“And a fine job he did,” Sybill said, wrinkling her nose as she looked out the window at the slightly scorched, completely snowless beech tree.

“Oh, it’s not that bad. He counted them and they’re all safely inside now,” Minerva shrugged. “Though he feels terribly guilty.”

“As he should,” Winky piped up, shuffling over to set a teapot rather aggressively down on the table by Minerva’s chair. “He has been in the kitchens, he has. Taken all the bacon. There was none left for Miss’ breakfast. I had to make her porridge instead. Porridge…!” The elf glared at Minerva as if she too was a bowl of the detested substance.

The Headmistress couldn’t suppress a smile. “In fact, that’s not what he was most concerned about. He was thinking more about our having to deal with them, and he feels like he’s been a bad mother for letting them escape,” she said, amused.

“Escape? He should have handed them over the second they hatched,” Sybill said, glancing down at the parchment as if still considering her duty to report this.

“Perhaps he should,” Minerva shrugged. “But I don’t blame him for not wanting to get in trouble. Not after he finally got the pet he had always dreamed of - well, a lot of them. And they aren’t really dangerous. Olympe said that she suspected this breed would not grow much larger than a cat.”

“But they breathe fire!”

“Yes, well, fortunately the castle was prepared for some fire. If we just keep them in that classroom for as long as they’re here, no harm will be done,” Minerva said.

“And what will happen when the students return? Tell me that? Do you think they’ll just respect a ‘ _Do not open - dragons within_ ’ sign?” Sybill began pacing again.

“I’m sure we’ll have found some sort of solution by the time they’re back,” Minerva said.

“You better,” Sybill said. “Or I am writing to the school board and telling them exactly what has been going on at this school since you took over.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Squeeee… Squeeee… Squeeee...”

With a groan Minerva rolled over, waving her hand around, hoping to hit the alarm. Then, after bumping her fingers against the heavy wooden nightstand, she realised that she had not had a Muggle alarm in years. Frowning, she dropped her arm over her eyes.

“Squeeee… Squeeee… Flap, flap, flap - _whoosh_!”

“What…” Jumping from the bed, she grabbed the jug of water on the night table and splashed it over her smouldering sheets. Four small dragons, sitting next to each other in a neat row, looked up at her with innocent eyes.

Minerva let out a very long, tired sigh. “Let me guess. Hagrid named you four James, Sirius, Remus and Peter.” One of the little beasts flapped its wings a few times before dropping heavily on top of another. “Yes,” Minerva murmured. “Definitely Sirius...” She rubbed a hand over her face. “You’re not the only ones out, probably. Sybill will be delighted.”

At the thought, anger raged once again through her veins. How Sybill had dared to imply that Minerva was the worst Head Hogwarts had ever seen... As if it were her fault that the Battle had left so many scars. She knew she should have solved everything by now. That Albus probably would have. But it wasn’t as if Sybill had offered any help at all. All she had done was nag about having to leave her classroom, and then she had not even left the school as Minerva had asked her to. If her sole contribution consisted of comments on the proceedings from the sideline… And now of course the dragons were out of their assigned classroom. Minerva could only hope they didn’t make it all the way to the North Tower to give Sybill something else to moan about.

With a sigh she glared down at the dragons. One of them let out a frightened squeak and rushed back out of her room through the keyhole, immediately followed by the others in a flutter of tiny flames. Minerva frowned as she walked to the door. Surely they were actually too big to get through there... Yet a closer look told her that the wood around the lock had been burned away until it was just the right size for them.

Fantastic. So they were intelligent, too.

Telling herself that delaying would only make it worse, Minerva quickly got dressed and went downstairs, all the way looking for signs of the creatures. Once she had passed the gargoyle, she didn’t have to look hard. Here and there she could spot fluttering wings and dark shadows disappearing behind harnesses. She decided she would leave them be for now and make her way to classroom eleven first, so she could at least lock in those who were still there. As she entered the corridor, she saw Hagrid’s giant form, struggling with about fifteen of the creatures who seemed to have gotten tangled in his hair.

“Take it easy, take it easy,” he protested. “I’ve go’ yer breakfast. If yer’ll jus’ le’ me ge’ it into the room, so yeh can share it with yer brothers and sisters.”

“Hagrid…” Minerva said. “Why are the dragons out?”

“Professor…” Hagrid gasped, almost dropping the large crate he was carrying. “It wasn’ me. I swear… Some o’ the little rascals got impatien’ an’… well… they sort o’ burned down the door…”

“Yes, so I see,” Minerva said. “Apparently the heat-repelling spells don’t work against dragon fire.”

“I guess no’, Professor. I’m really sorry abou’ this. I’ll pay fer a new door. And whatever else they wreck. They don’ mean ter be bad. They’re jus’ hungry. We ran out o’ bacon yesterday an’ I had ter go down ter Hogsmeade this mornin’. Bought everythin’ they have, but it won’ last us through the week.”

Minerva sighed. “Better lock these ones back up,” she said, gesturing at the crown of dragons around the gamekeeper’s head. “And Hagrid… When they’re all found, they’ll really have to go.”

Hagrid hung his head, but did not protest as he carried the crate towards classroom eleven.

Suddenly, an earsplitting screech echoed down the corridor. A moment later, a large swarm of tiny dragons pelted around the corner, yipping and crying in panic.

Minerva gasped and ducked.

“Yeehaa!” Fred cried as he zoomed after the dragons on his silvery broomstick, followed by a group of laughing and screaming ghosts. “Better prepare a blocking spell, Professor!” he yelled as he flew over Minerva. “We can get them back into the room, but it will be your job to keep them there.”

Surprised, Minerva watched as they entered the room. With some quick wand work she managed to lock it off as soon as Hagrid had come out. Then she looked at Fred, who had glided back through the wall. “Thank you,” she said.

“No need to thank us, Professor,” Fred said, saluting her. “It’s great to be useful.” He turned to the other ghosts, who were drifting out to join them, laughing and slapping each other’s backs. “You two,” he said, pointing at a couple of Ravenclaw girls. “Take the upper floors. Hufflepuffs do the dungeons and Gryffindors… Follow me!” And he was off again.

 

Minerva and Hagrid both joined the search, wandering around the castle all day and finding dragons in the most unlikely places. At some point, Minerva discovered the reason why she kept finding confetti ghosts everywhere, as one of the dragons was playing happily in Peeves’ secret supply of the cursed things. Of course the little beast was completely covered in the sticky ghosts by the time Minerva plucked it out of them. Her own hands were in much the same state when she had returned the happily struggling beast to its siblings, since it had been burping out confetti all the way there.

She found another one by the entrance to the library, relieved that she was there in time. Cringing at the thought alone of what Madame Pince’s reaction would be if anything happened to the books in her absence, she proceeded to check the rest of the library very carefully.

In the late afternoon, she was startled by a girl’s sobbing and crying. Entering the Prefects’ bathroom, she discovered that it was Myrtle, who was trying to scare a group of dragons, but they ignored her and cheerfully played in the water. Minerva could only guess how they had managed to turn on the taps. One of them was particularly reluctant to leave the rainbow-coloured steam it had created and almost burned her hand, but eventually she could return them all to the classroom, where Hagrid informed her that he had counted them again and there was only one missing.

They continued to look for it a while longer, but hungry and tired after running around all day, Minerva decided that it would show up at some point. The dragons had proven undetectable by her spells, but she informed the ghosts that they could warn her any time of the day or night if they found the tiny creature that was still lost in the castle.


	19. Chapter 19

As she had expected to be woken up any moment because the little dragon had been found, Minerva had not slept well. The fact that, by morning, none of the ghosts had shown up to give her the news made her mood even worse. Although tea usually did wonders to lift her spirits, the excessive amount of leaves that had sunk to the bottom of her cup also reminded her of Sybill’s criticism the other day. Minerva would have expected her to be more supportive. Things might be a bit out of hand right now, but there had been a time when she could have relied on Sybill for help or at least understanding.

Instead, Sybill had snapped at her as if she held some kind of grudge against her. Minerva hadn’t thought that this was how it was between them, despite their many disagreements. In fact, it had felt as if their friendship had been somewhat restored after she had stood up for Professor Trelawney against that horrible Umbridge, three years ago. And after that evening when she had received Clinton’s letter about Elphinstone…

Yet even when it was at its strongest, it had turned out that their relationship was fragile. Changeable. While Minerva generally looked back on the time they had been together with fondness, those moments of happiness had ended rather abruptly. Once again because Sybill could be so insufferably unreasonable.

It had been an autumn evening. After a rather long day of teaching, she had returned to their rooms, where she had been met by a gale of screams and accusations. How Sybill had thought it had meant something, that she had been important to Minerva, could trust her, while all this time she had been lied to. That of course she had never been enough and she should have known. She should have trusted all the Signs she had seen about their relationship. And the fact that she had never even dared to discuss those Signs with Minerva because she would only have ridiculed her, _that_ alone should have told her enough, shouldn’t it?

Minerva had just stood there, completely at a loss for what was happening. She had tried to get a few words in, in an attempt to calm Sybill down, but Sybill had not given her the chance, crying that Minerva shouldn’t interrupt her this time and that she was done listening to her because she knew better now. As she continued, Sybill’s yelling had become mingled with more and more insults and sobs. Then, finally, she had angrily wiped away her tears as she stormed out, pushing Minerva aside and slamming the door behind her.

Feeling as if she had been caught in a hurricane, Minerva had managed the few steps to her bed on shaky legs before she sank down, trying to figure out what had just happened. Then she had noticed the dusty rectangular box next to her on the covers. The lid was askew, so Sybill must have opened it, resulting in her horrible rage. Yet until Minerva had pushed the lid off, she didn’t remember what was inside. Frowning, she took out some of the old letters. It was strange to see Dougal’s once so familiar handwriting again. Most of these letters dated back more than thirty years, the paper having turned yellow and the ink becoming rather vague in places. She had kept the box under her bed when she had returned to Hogwarts to teach, but not taken it out since some time before she had married Elphinstone. In fact, she hadn’t even moved it to their Hogsmeade home, having forgotten all about it. But here it was, stirring up old memories of the Muggle she had once loved so dearly, but for whom she couldn’t have given up her life.

Even after reading through some of the letters, Minerva hadn’t understood why Sybill would have reacted to them so fiercely. There had been no revelation of any character trait of Minerva’s that Sybill was not yet familiar with, and obviously Minerva had never given any strong opinions about Divination to a Muggle… In the end she had decided that she would give Sybill some time to calm down, and then talk to her the next day.

But when she had gone up to the North Tower the following evening, it had quickly become clear that Sybill was far from calm. Though the shouting was now replaced by more tears and swigs from a bottle of sherry, Sybill had pulled away from every attempt Minerva had made to comfort her and told her to stay away.

Only a week later, Minerva had managed to convince Sybill to listen to her long enough to ask her what had happened. At Sybill’s incredulous huffs, Minerva had explained that she had received the letters before she even came to Hogwarts. Had Sybill not noticed their aged appearance? Surely she didn’t think Minerva had been writing to a man behind her back. Yet it had turned out that this had been exactly what Sybill thought.

At that point, it had been Minerva’s turn to get angry, disappointed as she was that after all the time they had spent together, Sybill did not know her any better or trust her any further than that. Sybill had shouted back that, if that really was all there was to it, Minerva shouldn’t have acted all secretive, hiding the box under the very bed they had shared and never speaking a word about Dougal McGregor.

Minerva had actually laughed at how ridiculous that statement was. Once again she had taken the time to explain that her and Dougal’s relationship was thirty years ago and how the letters now merely were a souvenir of a friend long gone. But Sybill had seemed determined to be angry with her.

 

Even when both women had calmed down, they had remained rather awkward around each other. On the few occasions that Sybill couldn’t avoid leaving her tower, they treated each other as distant acquaintances. A few times, Minerva had considered to try and talk it all out, but she couldn’t find it in herself to take the first step. Sybill had shown clearly enough that she didn’t really trust Minerva. If she wanted to discuss the reason she had run out, Minerva would be available, but Minerva wasn’t going to force her into it. If she tried that, it would probably all go wrong again.

Obviously Sybill had never mentioned the row again, nor anything else from the time they had been more than friends. Not until that vague hint two weeks ago. Eventually Sybill had stopped coming to the Great Hall at all, and the times they did talk, Minerva found that they had reverted to the cool ways of the days when Sybill had first taken up her job.

Suddenly, a loud knock startled Minerva out of her brooding.

“Professor?” Hagrid called. “Can I have a word?”

“Of course,” Minerva answered. “Come in.”

He squeezed in through the door and then stood for a moment, looking a bit uncertain. “I’s jus’... We’ve bin lookin’ everywhere. Me an’ the ghosts. And we jus’ can’t find Lavender anywhere an’…” he sniffed and wiped away a tear that had been forming at the corner of his eye. “I’m really worried abou’ her. She’s really small… Smaller than mos’ o’ the others. I’m afraid she’s gotten ou’ through a crack or summat... She could be stuck somewhere…”

“Lavender?” the voice of Albus Dumbledore interrupted. “But Miss Brown was one of the fallen, wasn’t she? How can a ghost be stuck?”

“Oh… Hagrid means the dragon,” Minerva said, turning to the portrait. “I didn’t tell you yet…”

She quickly filled Albus in on what had happened in the past few days. Then she directed herself to Hagrid again.

“I’m sure Lavender will be found. Or she might find her way back by herself, if she gets hungry. These creatures certainly seem clever enough,” she said.

Hagrid nodded, but still seemed very concerned. “O’ course, Professor,” he said. “Yeh’re righ’. Sorry fer makin’ such a fuss, bu’ they really _are_ jus’ little babies.”


	20. Chapter 20

“What is going on here?” Minerva asked as she came down to the Entrance Hall to pick up the basket of wood Hagrid had brought in for her fire. It was as if the Hall was filled by a thick mist, so many ghosts had gathered in there.

Fred floated out of one of the larger crowds. “I’m not entirely sure,” he said. “Everyone just seems to end up here today. It’s like it’s more… pleasant, than the rest of the castle.”

Minerva frowned. “The Entrance Hall? If anything, I’d say it’s more drafty…” But as she spoke the words, she realised it wasn’t entirely true. In fact, the Hall felt rather warmer than her own office.

“Not just the Hall,” Fred said, gesturing to a group of giggling girls drifting down a corridor. “Most of the ground floor, actually. Do you suppose your spell could be having a delayed effect?”

“I doubt it,” Minerva said with a sigh. “But it’s strange… If you’re all here, it should be colder, shouldn’t it?”

He frowned. “I… I suppose so…” He was interrupted by a loud hoot of laughter and then a group of ghosts, led by Sir Nicholas, came rushing into the hall, circled it a couple of times and disappeared up through the ceiling.

Everyone laughed as they watched them and then went back to gliding and chatting happily. “To tell you the truth, Professor,” Fred said. “I think the cold has been getting to us too. A lot of us have been growing quite… slow, lately. But today… Well, look at us. Everyone seems more alive. So to speak.”

Nodding slowly, Minerva walked between some of the ghosts in the direction Nick had come from. As she had expected, it turned out to be classroom eleven’s corridor. “Of course,” she mumbled to herself, remembering how much warmer it had been near Hagrid’s cabin.

Fred began laughing. “Of course,” he echoed. “We should have guessed those little fireballs would be good for something.”

“Why didn’t I think of this earlier?” Minerva said, shaking her head. “If we could spread them through the castle… without actually letting them wreck it…”

“Like putting them in cages?” Fred asked. “I don’t think they’d like that…”

“No, but surely we can figure something out,” Minerva said thoughtfully. “Hagrid will be delighted when he hears there’s a chance they don’t have to go. Maybe he knows a way to make them behave.”

“He could make it a project for the NEWTs,” Fred said. “Dragon taming. That ought to impress the examiners.”

“I’m not sure the Ministry would allow it,” Minerva said. “Besides, if we have to wait until they’re trained well enough not to burn down the castle...”

“I guess we better hear what Hagrid has to say before we decide anything,” Fred said. “He _is_ the Care of Magical Creatures teacher.”

 

…

 

“Oh, I can handle tha’, Professor,” Hagrid said, beaming at her. “They’re really quite well-behaved. They’ve jus’ bin so excited abou’ moving up ter the castle an’ all tha’. Yeh’ll see. I’ll calm ‘em down.”

“And we can help,” Fred said. “They seem to like us. When we’re not chasing them.”

“Still…” Minerva said hesitantly. “We should find some way that they don’t burn the books and parchment. This is, after all, a school.”

“They need ter be house trained, certainly,” Hagrid said. “Bu’ they’re really quite bright. They don’ _have_ ter flame, see? They just do it fer laughs an’ when they ge’ too eager.”

“And until they learn, the students must learn not to let their homework and such lying about,” Fred said, grinning. “But we should separate them. It seems that they get each other all worked up when they are together. I think they’ll be much more manageable in smaller groups. Wouldn’t you say so, Hagrid?”

“Aye. An’ their heat will be spread out too,” Hagrid said, before he dug an old piece of parchment out of his pocket and began sketching on it.

“Perhaps we could construct some kind of fireproof places for them to stay the night,” Minerva mused as she had watched Hagrid’s drawing for a moment. “So they won’t really be locked up, but it’s still safe for us to sleep.”

Hagrid nodded. “I think I’ve go’ some fireproof wood lying abou’ from the crates I made fer the Blast-Ended Skrewts. I’ll start building some lairs fer the little darlin’s. How many will we be needin’?”

 

The rest of the day was filled with floor plans of the castle, changing the distribution of the dragons so many times that a faint buzz had started in Minerva’s head, though the result looked like it would be worth it. Hagrid proudly showed her his first lair and after expressing her approval and gratitude, Minerva wrote a quick letter to Olympe, telling her that a solution had finally been found. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that now, even Sybill would have to concede that she was up to the job of Headmistress.


	21. Chapter 21

“It is so nice of you to come and see me,” Sybill said, leaning back in her chair in front of the fire. “Not many of my former students, who are now inhabitants of the higher planes of this castle, have taken the time to do so.” In truth none of them had, but there was no need to make the young ghost feel self-conscious.

The transparent girl smiled and settled a little deeper into the chair she was floating in. “I’m just sorry I haven’t come sooner,” she said. “I’m quite embarrassed that I did not think to call on you, before I needed your help.”

“Oh yes,” Sybill said, hiding her smile by taking a sip of the tea Winky had just brought her. “What is it, exactly, that you think I can do for you, that our new Headmistress can’t?”

“Well,” Lavender leaned forward as if confiding in her. “It’s these new creatures. The dragons…”

Sybill almost jumped in her chair. Her tea spilled over the edge of the cup and would have splashed on her dress if Winky hadn’t somehow managed to thrust a tea towel under it in time. As the elf took the cup and went to refill it, Sybill tried to compose herself. It really wasn’t dignified that a woman her age should be scared by such creatures, but they were so small… Like little flying rodents. She shivered, but forced herself to smile.

“Yes?” she prompted the girl, who had stopped speaking when she spilled the tea. “What is it you want to know about Hagrid’s new… pets?”

“Oh, they’re not just Hagrid’s now,” Lavender said, beaming. “They’re going to be living all over the castle.” She did not notice Sybill’s outraged huff and went on. “Hagrid’s begun building them lairs to hang in the dormitories, classrooms and some of the corridors. They’ll be keeping the school warm and supplying us with the energy we need to remain vibrant and active. Without draining everyone around us. They’re really quite useful. And…” She giggled. “They’re awfully cute.”

Sybill very much doubted that, but nodded for the girl to go on.

“Hagrid’s named them after students who’ve gone to Hogwarts,” Lavender continued. “So there’s a Ron and a Harry. Neville. Katie and Angelina. Even a Draco and a Blaise. And…” She blushed silver. “There’s also a Lavender. Only… little Lavender has gone missing…”

Realising that this was a unique opportunity to show Minerva just how ‘useless’ the art of divination was, Sybill jumped to her feet. “Fear not, Miss Brown. I will find your namesake. You have nothing to worry about.”

She hurried over to a corner table, picked up her own crystal ball, which was really much better quality than the ones she let the students use, and carried it into the middle of the room. She held it up in front of her and then slowly brought it closer to her eyes, focusing on the swirling mists within, willing them to show her where and when the dragon would be found.

At first she saw nothing, but then the mists seemed to lift and she saw a tiny fluttering form, no larger than a fingernail. “I see you…” she chanted, mainly to let Miss Brown know it was working. “I see you… Now come closer… Show yourself to me…”

And the thing did indeed come closer, slowly growing until she could confirm that it was indeed a dragon. “Yes…” she urged. “That is good. Now show me where you are…”

The creature moved closer and closer until it seemed like it was pressed up against the glass, its large eyes looking at Sybill intently. Almost as if it could see her. It opened its mouth and Sybill could almost hear the little squeak it made. Miss Brown wasn’t completely mistaken. The creature was sort of… cute…

She squinted, trying to make out any of its surroundings, but from the few details she could see, it might as well have been…

“It’s right there!” Miss Brown squealed, so loudly that Sybill dropped the crystal ball, which would have shattered if Winky had not been standing ready to catch it.

Sybill screamed as she found that she was still eye to eye with a tiny dragon, only there was no longer anything between them.

The dragon squawked and flapped its wings and a tiny flame shot out through its nostrils.

“Monster!” Winky cried and tossed the crystal ball at the dragon, who dodged it easily and then zoomed off as the ball smashed against the wall of the classroom, covering everything in crystal dust.

Sybill, who had almost stumbled over a pouf as she retreated, whirled around and almost threw herself through the trapdoor.

“Dragon!” she screamed as she raced down the stairs. “Dragon in the tower!”


	22. Chapter 22

Minerva had almost forgotten how comfortable it could be to sit by the fire without needing coats, scarves, hats or any other extra garments. She could hold a quill without feeling like her fingers might freeze to it and the ink no longer solidified in the pots. Instead, the fire made the emerald green words gleam prettily on the parchment as she continued writing, now and then sipping her tea. The contents of her letters made her feel even better. It was good to be able to invite those students and other inhabitants of the castle back who had dreaded spending Christmas away from the school. With the dragons installed in their new homes since the previous evening, it was now safe to say that she could welcome the students with open arms on Christmas Day. And to nicely warm common rooms, too.

Lavender was chasing her own tail in her lair, which had been hung in the corner of Minerva’s office. The poor animal had had a terrible fright the previous day, and it had not wanted to leave Minerva’s side, constantly hiding under her collar at first. A few more dragons were needed to keep the Head’s office warm, but they had flown off, probably in search of more bacon.

It had been quite a scene. Startled by the din in the North Tower, Minerva had been on her way there when suddenly Sybill had run into her. She had hidden herself behind Minerva, pressing her face into the back of her shoulder so she didn’t have to see the “monster” that was behind her.

Yet little Lavender had been nowhere in sight. After calming Sybill enough that she would let go of her, Minerva had gone up to the classroom to retrieve the terrified little dragon. But at the sight of the room, she had let out a loud gasp. Everything had been wrecked. Not one table was undamaged, the chairs had been tipped over and the shawls that had been hanging so neatly were ripped down from the walls. She had felt a pang of disappointment when she saw that even the set of pink patterned teacups, her birthday present for Sybill so many years ago, had been caught in the demolition of the room. After keeping their honorary place on Sybill’s shelf for all that time, two of the cups lay on the ground, broken, and Winky was sitting in the middle of the shards, crying.

“Winky can’t catch it,” she sobbed. “It’s too fast. Winky tried and tried, but it keeps hiding…”

It had taken some time to calm the elf down enough that she wouldn’t go after the dragon again. Then Minerva had repaired everything she could, leaving it to Winky to put it all back in its proper place. After scooping little Lavender out of the bag of runestones where it had taken shelter, she made her way back down. Once again she was stopped by Sybill, whose words almost couldn’t be heard over the dragon’s panicked squeaks, though the Divination teacher at least seemed slightly less hysterical.

“I am telling you, Minerva. I will not accept one of those… _things_ … in my tower. I’d rather freeze to death than be terrorised by these beasts.” Sybill had huffed and was about to stalk off when she thought of something else. “I’ll be keeping an eye on them, though,” she had said. “I will not let you jeopardise the safety of the students for the sake of convenience.” She had directed a final glare at Lavender, who had slipped under Minerva’s collar again, shivering. Then she had left, muttering about Signs of the End.

 

A loud squeak shook Minerva out of her thoughts as the other dragons returned, and she put her finished letter aside.

“They really are very cute,” Albus observed. “And they seem to have settled in nicely.”

He chuckled as Cedric landed on Fawkes’ old perch and snapped at the Christmas bauble that hung from the red ribbon tied around his belly. He couldn’t quite reach it and almost fell off. Cho hovered in front of him, apparently not as bothered by the mistletoe that had been fastened to her tail.

“Yes,” Minerva answered with a small smile. “Decorating them was of course Hagrid’s idea. I think it’s quite an original way to make the castle look festive. And according to Hagrid, the dragons like to feel pretty.”

“I guess we all do, once in a while,” Dumbledore said, straightening the wreath that had somehow appeared around his hat since last time she had seen him.

Minerva gave him an amused look.

“Now you have the temperature in the castle restored, maybe you should consider taking care of the frostiness that has been separating friends for far too long,” he said, leaning back and closing his eyes.

Minerva raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Dumbledore just smiled and began humming his favourite Christmas carol.

“Albus…” Minerva said, rolling her eyes. But in fact, she didn’t need an explanation. In the time after Sybill had ended their relationship so dramatically, Albus had urged Minerva multiple times to go and talk to her. One time she had snapped why it was so important to him that their relationship would be fixed. He had just smiled sadly and said something about a life with fewer regrets.

But Minerva had never really regretted ignoring his advice when it came to Sybill. She had always believed that the damage was done and accepted that there were simply too many differences between them to make the relationship work. Besides, Sybill was so much younger. It would be better to leave her alone, free to meet other people who could probably cause her more happiness.

On the other hand, Sybill had never seemed interested in taking advantage of that freedom. Instead she had isolated herself, drinking more and more. And Minerva had thrown herself into her work, telling herself that the loss of companionship wasn’t so bad when it meant that she could prepare lessons until past midnight without anyone ever nagging that she should come to bed.

Of course, Albus had now spoken of friendship rather than their relationship. And perhaps, if she was honest with herself, Minerva did regret that that had never been restored. Never mind the lazy evenings cuddling by the fire, the safe feeling waking up next to another person and the small, loving gestures; what she missed most was someone to confide in, a friend. While Minerva got along with most of Hogwarts’ teachers, it had been different with Sybill. Easier. And the evening they had spent together, after Minerva had received Clinton’s letter, had reminded her how nice it could be.

But then there had been the issue with the dragons, making Minerva doubt Sybill was interested in taking up their friendship. Instead of talking about why she loathed the dragons so much, she had accused Minerva of putting the entire school at risk by using them. Threatened to write the school board as though she really thought Minerva’s position didn’t suit her. All because of some irrational fear - because really, what was a dragon of that size going to do that was worse than scorching a blanket? Yet Sybill had run as though she truly believed her life was in danger.

Minerva frowned. What if, rather than being difficult for the sake of it, Sybill had _really_ thought that? Or at least really been as scared as she seemed? There were phobias about much stranger things than dragons. Minerva had seen that often enough in her Transfiguration lessons - people suddenly screaming when she turned a button into a beetle or stiffening as she turned herself into a cat. If that really was at the base of Sybill’s fierce reaction, Minerva had in fact been quite tactless. The encounter with a live dragon in her very own classroom, usually a safe haven to Sybill, might have been more shocking than Minerva had imagined. It might even explain why Sybill had not told her about her fears. If she herself felt that she was overreacting, but simply couldn’t stop the beast’s presence upsetting her as it did…

But it was Sybill. She hardly needed something like that to be unreasonable. That had been clear enough when she had found Dougal’s letters. It wasn’t as if she had been so afraid then...

Minerva gasped. No, no one would be afraid of letters. But Sybill had read them. She had read declarations of love to the woman with whom she had been in a relationship. Turns of phrase that implied the words were an answer to things Minerva had said. And she had believed that Minerva loved him. She had panicked, thought that she was not enough and that she would lose her.

Of course she had been scared. And in time, Minerva could have put things right if she had not stubbornly believed that Sybill was unnecessarily dramatic. She had been a fool.


	23. Chapter 23

“Mr and Mrs Malfoy… I thought you would know the school is closed these days,” Minerva said coolly, eyeing the couple standing in the snow in front of the entrance doors.

“Yes,” Mrs Malfoy said, her tone even icier. “That is why we thought this a prudent time to collect our son’s belongings.”

Her husband just shuffled his feet and avoided Minerva’s eyes.

Minerva raised her eyebrows. “I thought Draco’s belongings had been sent to you by his Head of House.”

“We did receive some items from Professor Slughorn, but many rather valuable things seem to have gone missing,” Mrs Malfoy said. “We do not, of course, assume this to be anything but an oversight, so we decided to spare you the trouble of searching Draco’s old dormitory and came here to take care of it ourselves.”

“And what… items… have gone missing, may I ask?” Minerva said. “If they involve dark magic, and such objects have indeed been found, you will understand that we do not return them. They have been destroyed.”

For a moment it looked like Narcissa Malfoy was seriously considering whether it would be worth a lifetime sentence in Azkaban to curse Minerva, but then she took a deep breath and forced a painful smile. “Of course not, Headmistress. We are merely speaking of some personal items. Malfoy heirlooms that we do not wish to see in the wrong hands.”

Her husband cleared his throat and said, with a voice that sounded like he had almost forgotten how to use it: “Surely you cannot object to us having a look around his old room. As I understand it, the students were instructed to bring all their personal belongings with them, so there is no risk of us… violating anyone’s privacy.”

Minerva breathed in sharply as her excuse for not letting them into the castle was countered. “Fine,” she said, stepping aside. “But I will accompany you.”

“That is very kind of you,” Mrs Malfoy said. “But we do not wish to impose on your… valuable time.”

Minerva gave her a look and turned around in the direction of the dungeons. “Follow me.”

 

…

 

Once in the Slytherin common room, Minerva immediately walked over to retrieve the lost and found box and handed it over to the couple. They hardly glanced at it before they gave it back.

“We do not believe the objects we are looking for have been found,” Mrs Malfoy said. “Please show us to Draco’s old dormitory.”

Pressing her lips together, Minerva led them to the right room. As Head of Gryffindor she had of course not known where exactly the students from other Houses slept, but once she had become Headmistress, she had helped the other teachers restoring the castle, making the common rooms liveable again, and sorting out belongings of the students who had left Hogwarts. In the dormitory occupied by Draco Malfoy and his friends they had indeed found a great share of dark objects, which had been disposed of.

However, Mr and Mrs Malfoy seemed confident that they would still find what they were looking for. They walked past the first bed and then Mr Malfoy took out his wand, which he moved quickly upwards. A floor board jumped to the side, revealing a space beneath, filled by a small chest.

Mrs Malfoy glanced over at Minerva, almost smiling. “Don’t ever assume that you will be able to find a thing if a Malfoy really wished to hide it from you,” she said.

“I wonder why he thought it necessary to take such measures,” Minerva said, crossing her arms.

“Obviously because what is in this box, is none of your business,” Mrs Malfoy answered, gestured for her husband to follow and headed back to the Slytherin common room.

“I’m afraid it _is_ my business,” Minerva said, catching up with them in a few long strides. “This box has been kept hidden in my school. I will need to check the contents so I know if its presence put the students at risk or can have any lingering effects.”

But both Malfoys ignored her as they made their way out into the dungeons. They might have gotten away, had Lucius not been dive-bombed by an angrily squeaking little dragon.

“Watch out!” Minerva called as she saw it coming.

“Molly, stop that,” The Fat Friar scolded as he rushed towards them. “I’m sorry, Headmistress,” he said. “I don’t know what got into her. She just suddenly took off and… oh…”

He was staring at the box that Mr Malfoy had dropped as he tried to ward off Molly’s second attack. The lid had fallen off as it hit the floor, revealing the contents: a small, slightly mouldy, softly whimpering plush troll.

Mrs Malfoy dove at the box and tried to get the lid back on, but the troll was already trying to crawl out, reaching up as if begging for a hug. It wrapped its stuffed, fluffy arms around her wrist and no matter how hard she shook her arm, she could not get it off.

Her husband came to her aid, almost managing to hide a grin as he pried the creature off and stuffed it back into the box. “You were the one who gave him the silly thing,” he hissed at her, took her hand and dragged her off.

Minerva stared at their backs, still finding it difficult to believe what she had just seen. The Malfoys had just travelled all the way to Hogwarts for their 18-year-old’s cuddly troll. It had not been a cursed heirloom or a weapon after all. Suddenly she was glad no one had found it earlier. Young Draco probably would have been mortified if people knew. And Minerva herself had been prying, just because she had been prejudiced. Again. Exactly like she had been with Sybill.

It really was time to go talk to her. And to find the plush tabby cat with its tartan bow, which Sybill had once given Minerva as a joke-gift. Seeing the Malfoys’ troll somehow made Minerva want to see the cat again right away, but as it had always reminded her too strongly of her time with Sybill, she had put it away in a box not long after their break-up.

 

She could look for it tonight. First she would go up to the North Tower. She really needed to check on Sybill, anyway. See if she was alright after the encounter with the dragon had shaken her so much.

But when she knocked on the trapdoor, all was quiet. She went up to the classroom, thinking that perhaps Sybill was taking a nap, but there was no one there. In fact, it looked like there had been a small fight or perhaps another dragon hunt. Minerva called Sybill’s and Winky’s names a few times, but no answer came.

Disappointed, she returned downstairs. Surely Sybill had not actually left Hogwarts… And yet, if Minerva was right about her dracophobia, she couldn’t really blame her. Minerva had after all not shown any kind of support and had simply gone through with her plans.

Still, she kept hoping to find Sybill or at least Winky in the kitchen. But there, too, all was quiet.


	24. Chapter 24

When Sybill woke up, she almost cried out from the pain in her back and neck. Winky had done her best, trying to make a comfortable bed for her, but the small room was barely more than a broom cupboard.

She had tried returning to her own rooms after Minerva had removed the beast, but had found that she didn’t feel safe there anymore. Everywhere she turned, she sensed movement out of the corner of her eye. Small, fluttering movements creeping up on her. But when she turned to look: nothing. After being scared half to death a dozen times and breaking three blue cups, a crystal ball and a table by hurling them at imaginary intruders, she had given up and fled, this time taking Winky and a couple of blankets with her.

It had been late last night, and all the winged demons seemed to be asleep, so she had made her way here without incident. The room might be small and dusty, but it had no windows or other openings where one of those cursed creatures could get in. She had cast all the protective charms on the door she could think of, and after doing a thorough search of the room, the house-elf had sat up the entire night, keeping watch. But Sybill knew that this was not any kind of solution for more than a single night.

Sybill sent Winky out ahead and when she reported back that the corridor was, for the moment, clear of all airborne calamities, ventured out and hurried down towards the kitchens. She was starving by now and felt she had no choice but to risk it. Winky kept at her side, brandishing a broom and a spatula, prepared to defend Sybill with her life if need be.

They made it to the Entrance Hall, but then had to divert in order to avoid a group of ghosts, who were practising a carol for tomorrow’s dinner while surrounded by a very enthusiastic group of dragons attempting to squeak along.

Getting to the stairs to the kitchens without passing them, meant going up several floors, and by a route that Sybill would never have found had it not been for Winky’s guidance. When they finally reached the painting with the ticklish pear, she had to lean on the wall for a bit and catch her breath.

Suddenly, something cold brushed against her back, startling her.

“Oh, sorry, Professor!” a young boy’s voice said. “I didn’t know you’d be on the other side of the wall.”

Turning around, she saw it was the ghost of a young Hufflepuff, who was drifting in the direction of his common room. Then the boy stopped and looked at her.

“Wait, I almost forgot to tell you. The Headmistress is looking for you, Professor. She asked Sir Nicholas to keep an eye out for you, so he told all of us,” he said.

Sybill sighed. Of course Minerva would be looking for her. She was probably going to lecture her again about her ‘foolish fear’ or something like that. “If she wants me,” she huffed, “she can bloody well come find me herself.” She tickled the pear so forcefully it gasped rather than giggled and the painting swung open so quickly it knocked Winky off her feet.

Sybill made her way over to one of the benches, and the elf busied herself preparing a very plentiful breakfast for her. But Sybill had only gotten to the second bite, when a _whoosh_ sounded from the fireplace.

“Good morning, Sybill!”

She sighed and turned to see Minerva’s head glaring at her from within the flames. Well, no… Not glaring. Sort of frowning.

“Good morning, Minerva,” she said and turned around to continue her meal.

“I couldn’t find you in the tower yesterday. Is everything alright?” Minerva asked.

“No,” Sybill said. She had spent most of last night trying to work out what to give as a reason for her not being able to remain in her tower any longer. She had considered leaving Hogwarts and would have, if she had had any idea where she might go. But nothing had come to her. She could not stay in those rooms. She could not leave. And she could definitely not ever tell Minerva what was wrong…

“I’m scared…” she cried and then hid her face in her hands, sobbing. “I’m terrified…”

She heard a faint pop and huffed, realising that Minerva, probably appalled by such an undignified display, had left again. But a moment later, she heard a soft rustling sound next to her and then there was a hand on her shoulder.

“Easy now, Sybill,” Minerva said. “You’re safe. There are no dragons in the kitchen.”

“But they’re everywhere. They’re so small they can get in through chimneys, keyholes, cracks in the walls,” she wailed. “I can’t do it… I can’t stay here. But I can’t leave either…”

Minerva gently squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Sybill. Don’t worry. Here, take a sip of this.” She handed Sybill a small bottle and then, as an afterthought, a large clean handkerchief.

Sybill eyed the bottle. “Thanks, but… I don’t drink… anymore…”

Minerva smiled. “It’s a Calming Draught. Madam Pomfrey had some left from the last exams. Go on, you’ll feel better.”

Sybill considered for a moment; then, her hands shaking, opened the bottle and emptied it. “Thank you,” she muttered, handing it back to Minerva.

“You’re welcome,” Minerva said, pocketing the bottle and letting go of Sybill’s shoulder. “And I owe you an apology.”

Sybill was sure she must have misheard. She stared up at Minerva. “Wha… What?” she managed.

“For not seeing what was going on,” Minerva explained. “I realise I have been less than understanding and… I am sorry it resulted in upsetting you. That was never my intention.”

“What’s to understand? I’m a silly fool that loses it for no reason,” Sybill said, looking down at the breakfast she no longer felt like eating. “Isn’t that how it’s always been?”

“No,” Minerva said slowly. “I don’t think so. As far as I can see, you do have a reason. But it can be helped. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“But it does…” Sybill said. “I mean… It’s good for Hogwarts, right? I just have to find a way to live with it. Or go away. Or something…”

“I don’t want you to leave your post,” Minerva said. “And I agree that the dragons should stay. But that doesn’t mean you need to be afraid all the time. I think we can find a way to let you get used to them. Step by step. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I don’t?” Sybill frowned and then looked over at Winky. True, the elf had been trying to help, but to be honest, she might actually be making matters worse with all her screaming and flailing.

Minerva followed her gaze and smiled faintly. “I mean that _I_ want to help you. I put you through this, so it seems only right.”

Sybill looked back up at her. “That’s… That’s really kind of you,” she said. “But you don’t have to. I mean… you must have enough to look after… With the school and all…”

“I can make time,” Minerva said with a shrug. “After all, the well-being of one of my teachers is at stake.”

Sybill tried to ignore the sinking feeling inside her. “Right…” she said. “I suppose you could give me some time off or something… I could go to St Mungo’s and talk to someone. I’m sure they know how to deal with people like me.”

Minerva’s face fell. “Oh. If you prefer it that way, I can of course do that. But it’s not what I had in mind.”

“It’s not?” Sybill tried not to look too relieved. “Then what do you suggest?”

“That we spend some time together. I can keep away the dragons when they get too eager and warn you where they are when you want to avoid them. And when they _are_ around, I can be there for support.”

“But…” Sybill said hesitantly. “That would mean being together almost… all the time…” She blushed. “Like we used to…”

“Ah. Yes.” Minerva frowned. “Of course you don’t have to take the offer if you’d rather not, after everything that has happened. But, for the sake of clarity, I did of course mean for us to do this as friends.”

“Of course,” Sybill said, a little too quickly. “Do… Do you have a guest room? Now you’re the Headmistress, I mean?”

“I do,” Minerva said. “So… Do you think you are ready to join me in my office? There might be some dragons around, but I can go first and contain them in their lair for you. Though perhaps you should finish your breakfast first.”

Sybill nodded. “Thank you, Minerva,” she said. “For all of it.”

Minerva gave her a smile. “You are quite welcome.”

 

…

 

Sybill spent the entire day in Minerva’s office. Thrice, one of the small creatures would pop in, but after the first shock, she managed to handle it with something resembling dignity. When the little one that had scared her in her own classroom showed up looking absolutely exhausted, she agreed to let it go into the lair where it seemed to fall asleep right away. The creature had a tiny bell tied to it and that was really quite practical, because knowing that she would hear it if it tried to come out, helped her not to focus on its presence too much.

Minerva was working most of the time, reading or writing letters. But there was also time to talk. Not about anything serious, just idle friendly chatter. Winky kept them supplied with tea and brought them sandwiches for lunch and a very nice soup for dinner. Suddenly it was dark outside and the tiny dragon let out a mighty yawn, rolling over with a faint tinkle.

Minerva had just received an owl and looked up. “Looks like it’s going to be an even busier day tomorrow than I thought,” she told Sybill. “Molly Weasley just sent a letter that she would like to spend Christmas here with her whole family, so they can be with Fred. Of course they are welcome, but I suppose I’d better go to bed early… One never knows what the twins will get up to when they are together.” With a sigh she looked at the small confetti ghost that was still glued to her ink pot.

“Oh… But how about dinner?” Sybill asked. “Surely Winky can’t cook for that many people…”

She turned to look at the elf, expecting a protest. But Winky had fallen asleep on the rug in front of the fire and was snoring happily.

Minerva smiled. “Of course not. The other house-elves will arrive tonight. They were eager to return, but I asked them not to do so during the day in case they’d startle our new friends.” She seemed to have started avoiding the word “dragon”, as though she was afraid mentioning it would upset Sybill again.

Sybill laughed. “Oh,” she said. “I think the dragons would have found it very amusing.” She stressed the word just a tiny bit, hoping that Minerva would notice. She would have to get used to the dragons, so she might as well start by getting used to the word.

“Well, they will have plenty to get excited about when they meet all those new people tomorrow,” Minerva said. “Which might mean they become rather active… But don’t worry. I’ll try to stay close at the feast. At least, if you feel up to joining us?”

“I would love to,” Sybill said. “Though I may need one more of Madam Pomfrey’s potions to get me through. If you think that would be okay?”

“Of course. I will take care of that,” Minerva nodded. Then she got up. “I really should go to bed. Is everything in the guestroom to your liking? Lavender, Cho and Cedric will stay here in their lair, so…”

“Yes… It’s lovely,” Sybill said. As she got to her feet she saw that Winky was waking up, and she smiled as the elf hurried ahead to prepare the bed for her.

 

…

 

A few hours later, Sybill woke with a muffled scream. She sat up in the bed and tried to listen over the sound of her own heart pounding. No sounds. No fluttering or squeaking. No scraping of tiny claws crawling towards her.

She considered returning to her broom cupboard, but that would mean wandering through half the school and who knew if all the little beasts really had returned to their assigned lairs. Some might very well be out and about, committing any kind of mischief.

Winky was sleeping on a pillow next to the bed, but waking the elf would hardly make things better.

Sybill lay down and tried to go back to sleep, but it was hopeless. Finally, her cheeks feeling rather warm, she picked up her pillow and blanket and tiptoed through Minerva’s office to the Headmistress’ bedroom. As quietly as possible, she crept into the bed, making sure to stay as far to the side as she could without risk of falling out.


	25. Chapter 25

Minerva woke up to the sound of soft snoring. A few times she sniffed, thinking her nose was stuffed, but somehow the snores continued. She pulled the stuffed cat a little closer to her chest and wanted to roll over to her side, but then she realised the toy had grown a lot heavier overnight. And warmer. With longer hair that was tickling her left cheek.

She opened her eyes and looked down. Sybill had pressed her face into her shoulder and had an arm around her waist. Minerva’s left arm was resting around her back, keeping her close. And at the foot of the bed, three small dragons were staring at them with big yellow eyes.

“Go away!” Minerva whispered fiercely.

“Yes, okay… In a minute…” Sybill muttered and yawned. “Let… Let me wake up first…”

“Not you,” Minerva smiled, breathing a sigh of relief as the small creatures fluttered back through the keyhole, reminding her that she had to repair it when she got out of bed.

Sybill had managed to get her eyes open and pulled away with a surprised squeak. “Oh no… I’m sorry… “ she gasped. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Sybill, calm down,” Minerva said, gently pushing her back in place. “I’m perfectly comfortable, so there is no need to apologise at all.”

Sybill blushed. “I had a nightmare,” she said, sheepishly.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Was it about Hogwarts’ new heating system?” Minerva inquired.

Sybill nodded and then giggled. “You make it sound so silly.”

“What?” Minerva turned the words over in her mind, hoping that she hadn’t said anything that would make Sybill think she was ridiculing her phobia.

“Yes… ‘heating system’. Like they’re some kind of appliance. They’re dragons… Tiny dragons…” Then she sighed. “That’s the scary bit… That they’re so small.”

Minerva frowned. “But… It’s what makes them less dangerous. Although, of course, it does make it easier for them to enter rooms they’re not supposed to…”

“That’s it,” Sybill said. “They could be anywhere. Right on top of you before you notice. They could be hiding in your drawers or behind your books. Like rats or…” she shivered, “mice…”

Minerva nodded. “And I couldn’t trace them by magic. I assume the same is true for the Second Sight?”

Sybill nodded. “It’s like they’re not even there. Until suddenly they… they _are_.” She shook her head. “I know it shouldn’t bother me. I’m not afraid they’ll hurt me. They’re just… creepy.”

“It’s okay,” Minerva said. “I understand now.”

 

They didn’t move until Winky walked into the room with a giant tray, holding breakfast for both of them and seeming more cheerful than usual. Even while they were eating, their shoulders kept touching and though Minerva tried not to think of it too much, she had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud with happiness.

Yet once they had finally gotten out of bed, there wasn’t much time for her thoughts to linger on the matter. The first students arrived less than an hour later and the dragons did indeed become quite agitated, eager to sniff them and play with them. Hagrid actually had to come to the rescue with some bacon when a second-years Slytherin had ended up with seven dragons in her hair. After that, Minerva had to go look for Sybill in her office, as she had run off to hide. Surprisingly, the fact that Lavender was scuttling around between Minerva’s quills did not seem to bother her.

 

The day seemed to pass in a rush and before she knew it, Minerva was welcoming a long row of Weasleys, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and a blushing Angelina Johnson. Last to enter was Charlie, who was accompanied by a nervous young man who did not quite meet Minerva's eyes as he shook her hand.

“This is Shihui,” Charlie said. “We’re ‘borrowing’ him from China. He’s the author of _Dragons of Asia and Oceania_. He’s the top expert on all the eastern breeds.”

“He’s wha’?” Hagrid exclaimed, pushing through the crowd to gawk at the young man. “Are you tellin’ me that this here lad is Huang Shihui? No, he can’t be… He’s jus’ a kid...”

“Pleased to meet you,” Minerva said, shaking his hand. “You’ll find an interesting object of study around here.” She gestured at the three dragons chasing each other around Ginny’s head.

Shihui looked up at the small creatures and narrowed his eyes. “What are they?” he asked, his voice soft with only a hint of an accent. “Where did they come from?”

“What exactly they are we don’t know,” Minerva said, “but I’m sure Hagrid will want to tell you the whole story over dinner.”

Nodding eagerly, Hagrid steered Charlie and his friend away from the others to find them a couple of chairs to move next to his. The rest of the family settled at the Gryffindor table along with the handful of students that had returned. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws sat together, leaving only the three Slytherins sitting alone.

After Minerva had told the Hufflepuffs to invite them to their table, she took her own seat next to Sybill and dinner could start. As only about half of the teachers had arrived yet, they were sitting at the House tables too. Now and then, when a dragon fluttered by, Minerva would lean in to Sybill or take her hand, showing her support, although she made sure that the Weasleys surrounding them didn’t see.

Dinner was almost over when the lively conversation was suddenly interrupted by a loud gasp followed by the clatter of a cup falling to the floor.

“Nooooo….” Hagrid said, looking stunned while Charlie grinned at him, clapping his hands. His friend Shihui was making a note in a little book, smiling.

“What is it, Charlie?” Fred called from his seat between George and Angelina. “What are you three up to?”

Hagrid blushed and then hid his face in his large hands.

“They’re a new breed,” Charlie informed them all. “Shihui is naming them after Hagrid.”

“ _Draculus rubeus_ ,” Shihui said, nodding. “They will be a sensation, once word gets out.”

“But Hagrid could simply buy the egg in a shop,” Minerva frowned. “So they already existed, and if they can be spread like that, I doubt they are rare.”

“Oh, the eggs have been around for ages,” Shihui said. “As long as there have been dragons, I suppose.”

Charlie nodded. “It’s not a common thing, but once in like every 10.000 clutches, a dragon will lay a ‘dead egg’. Nobody knows why exactly, but it seems something has gone wrong in the fertilisation of the egg, that is much smaller than the others in the clutch. Such eggs are usually left in the nest until the others hatch and then the mother will discard it with the empty shells. Sometimes, dragon tenders will collect these eggs for decorations. Even selling them, it seems. But no one has ever managed to make one of them hatch. Until now.”

“The embryo was not viable,” Shihui said. “Containing parts of hundreds of dragons, but not a whole one. But Hagrid’s spell… fixed this… Instead of creating copies of the same egg, he gave all the little ones their own egg. And room and energy to grow.”

“So Hagrid not only discovered this breed,” Charlie said. “In a way he created it.”

The entire hall erupted in a cacophony of cheers, clapping and shouts of congratulations, as half the students and all of the Weasleys got to their feet and lined up to shake Hagrid’s hand.

 

…

 

It was late when everyone had either returned home or to their dormitory. Fortunately that meant that most of the _Draculi rubei_ had gone to sleep by the time Minerva and Sybill returned to the Head’s quarters.

“It’s funny,” Sybill said. “Now that I know what they are… they don’t seem quite so bad…”

Minerva smiled. “See… We’ll yet get you to like them.”

“Tolerate them,” Sybill corrected her and giggled as they entered Minerva’s bedroom. She seemed about to say something else when they heard a small rustling above them and looked up. Sybill frowned. “They’re hard to tell apart. But that one… It’s the one called Cho, right?”

Minerva nodded, looking up at it too.

Sybill narrowed her eyes to see in the soft light from the fireplace. “What’s that hanging from its tail?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!  
> Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, remember to check back around Easter (or subscribe so you don't need to remember). There might be more...


	26. Sequel

There is now a sequel for this story: [Easter Eggs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3666087/chapters/8102823).


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